


You've Got Mail

by Lanii



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, dammit jim i'm a doctor not a fanfic editor, is it dangerous?, it appears to be a college au of some sort captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanii/pseuds/Lanii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between slacking off and jacking off, Ymir gets it into her head that it would be a hilarious prank to sign up on Christianmingle.com as a guy and see what happens.  But once she starts talking to Historia Reiss, the prank's on her because oh shit, she's falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Business as Usual

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm going to work on Upon Awakening," I said, sitting down at my laptop.
> 
> "Gonna get things moving and maybe bullshit an actual plot." I said, typing away.
> 
> "How the fuck did this happen?" I say, staring in confusion at the newly posted work which is most definitely not a new chapter of Upon Awakening.

Ah, finals week. The bane of every highschooler/college goer’s existence. Most people spent the days leading up to this hellish week studying their asses off.

Ymir was not most people.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” The girl on screen cried every time she reached the base of the thick dildo she was riding. She let out a soft “Ooh...” as she circled her hips, fingers of one hand massaging her clit, the other trailing up her torso and pinching a rosy nipple. Not for the first time since she had found the girl’s video’s, Ymir wished she could see the star’s face, see if it was as expressive as as her voice and body lead the audience to believe. But the thought was fleeting as her orgasm hit her, soft but powerful, like a wall of water.

“Fuck.” Ymir panted, head thrown back, teeth digging into her lower lip as she slowly rubbed her own clit, gentle shocks going off in her spread legs. One slipped off its position on the chair and pushed on the floor, propelling the chair and its occupant a few feet away and disconnecting her earbuds.

“Jesus fucking...” Ymir swore as she used her unoccupied hand to drag the chair back in front of the laptop, and plug in her earbuds, frantically stuffing them in her ears just in time to hear the girl cry out her own orgasm in a high, sweet cry. The sound sent a shudder as her fingers skittered across the keys.

“holy hell girl you are something else” Her message appeared in the private chatbox. A light giggle came from the girl.

“That what you wanted hon?” Her reply popped up seconds later.

“even if it wasn’t, i’d still consider it money well spent.”

“Thank you for your donation!” On screen, the girl gave two thumbs up before taking out the toy and putting it somewhere offscreen.

“no thank you for the stress relief ms lenz”

Another giggle as the girl waved her hand.

“Oh c’mon dancing_queer,” she typed, using Ymir’s screen name since she didn’t know her real name. “You’ve paid over a hundred dollars just to see me in various kinky situations. I think you can call me by my first name, don’t you?” Came her playful response.

“fine. Krista.”

Ymir gnawed on a thumbnail, then sent another message.

“if thats even ur real name”

“Of course it’s not! My mother raised me to never reveal such intimate information to strangers!”

Ymir snorted when she read that message.

“riiiiiiiiiiiiiight”

Ymir heard the girl yawn, and ran her eyes over Krista’s body as she stretched, paying particular attention to the tattoo of a crown on her right hip. She couldn’t help it. Ymir had a thing for tattoos, even if she was too squeamish to go under the needle herself.

“Gonna call it a night.” Krista typed. “Doin another video next week, same time. C ya there ;P”

“yea bye”

The screen goes dark and Ymir clicks out of the window. She dicks around on Facebook for awhile before grudgingly coming to terms with the fact that she couldn’t put off cleaning up any longer and takes her hand out of her panties. In the white glare of the screen, her fingers look like they’re covered in black sludge.

Fuckin’ periods.

Grumbling to herself, Ymir gets out of the chair and goes to the bathroom. It’s two in the morning and everyone in the dorm is either studying or sleeping. Passing a certain room, she hears the rythmic thudding of a headboard against a wall. Or having sex. She adds to her mental list, continuing on her journey to the bathroom. She uses her non-bloody hand to open the door and flick the lightswitch. The glare of the fluorescent lightbulbs causes her to squint and grope blindly for the sink. She squeezes some soap, also on her non-bloody hand, and washed them in cold water, squinting at herself in the mirror as she does so. Her hair loudly proclaims she has not showered in a week. Dark smudges circle her eyes. There’s a zit just below her nose. Its presence offends her, and she raises her hands to pop it.

Gross.

She breathes in and nearly gags on the disgusting stench clinging to her right hand. Fuckin’ periods. Thank god she had discovered a handful of baking soda got rid of a majority of the smell, or shark week as she liked to call it would be a hell of a lot more frustrating.

She trudges back to her room, and grabs the box of baking soda she had bought when a rusty streak had appeared in her underwear three days ago. After a moment’s deliberation and a glance downward, she grabbed a clean pair of panties and more pads. Back to the bathroom, where she changed pad and panties. Then she looked at herself some more because what else is there to do at two in the morning besides masturbate and examine your every flaw?

She was twenty-one years old, attending the local college with an undeclared major. The closest thing she had to a friend was a weird relationship with an amateur porn star whose face Ymir had never seen. She was beginning to develop a nicotine addiction. Her boobs were non-existent.

That’s enough self-loathing for one night. Ymir decided, leaving the bathroom. She was then greeted by the sight of Connie Springer and Sasha Braus sneaking along the hallway, dressed in black and carrying jars of preserved animal fetuses that were most likely stolen from the Biology lab. Or, knowing Ms. Zoe, the eccentric professor was probably just giving out dead babies to anyone who asked for them. Also, Sasha was carrying a sign that said in large blocky lettering,

“HOPE YOU USED PROTECTION.”

‘Shit.” Connie whispered. They stared at each other for a short period of time. Then Ymir shook her head and walked past them, mumbling “I don’t want to know.” and secretly grateful she was wearing plain white panties and not the ones patterned with crudely drawn penises, which she had made herself. Although knowing Springer and Braus, they’d probably just ask excitedly if she could make some for them too. She shuffled back to her room and shut the door. Closed her laptop. Flopped into bed after dropping the dirty pad and panties and baking soda on the ground. Fell asleep to thoughts of being an enormous failure.

Business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what


	2. Rumors in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir skips her classes and listens to rumors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably say that my knowledge of actual college life is limited to a ten year old memory of staying at Gallaudet university in D.C. to see an aunt graduate and repeated viewings of Animal House. That being said, if anything bothers you immensely, just breath deep and say to yourself "it's just a story, i should really just relax."

Sunrises are some of the most loveliest sights in nature. The soft shades of pink and purple gently ushering dark blue away so its lighter sister could replace it. Clouds becoming threaded with gold as the first rays of sunlight hit them. Watching one can bring about a sense of peace and certainty in a crazy, rushing world. If you were, y’know, the kind of person who actually liked getting up early, and did it voluntarily to boot. In comparison to say, being rudely awakened by the sound of some ratchet ass ho screaming her fucking head off at six in the goddamn morning.

“Mother of god.” Ymir groans. “Shut your fucking mouth, it’s six in the goddamn morning!”

The screaming continued, coupled with heavy footsteps thudding past Ymir’s door and followed by shouts of “Babe, come back!” and “Springer you are so dead!”

Well. That explained the animal fetuses.

So Jean Kirschtein had fallen victim to a revenge prank, meaning someone had paid Sasha and Connie to make a few seconds of that person’s life a living hell. Yeah. That was a thing they did. To be honest, Ymir (along with most of the student body and faculty) wasn’t sure how the two had managed to remain uncaught and continue their academic career at the University of Trost. It was one of life’s great mysteries. Bribery, blackmail, and sheer good luck were just a few of the explanations floating around. 

If Ymir had been a gambling woman, she would have bet her meager life’s saving that the dastardly duo’s client was none other than Eren Jaeger. The rivalry between him and Jean was legendary, and rumored to stretch back to nursery school. How it started varied on what person you asked, but the general consensus was that Eren’s adopted Japanese sister was at the root. Some said Jean had tried kissing her on the playground by the monkeybars and Eren had punched him. Others said that in a childish way to express his feelings, Jean pulled on her pigtails during story time, and Eren had kicked him. Mikasa seemed to be indifferent to the two boy’s fighting, and even stated in the seventh grade that it was “kinda funny to see them go at each other”. Though it had begun with her, Mikasa clearly had no effect on the situation anymore and by eighth grade, it was obvious they were arguing just for arguing’s sake.

If a teacher had the two of them in the same class period, that teacher better believe in a smiling god. The only one who seemed to control the two was the History professor, Mr. Rivaille, who was five feet and three inches of sheer badass. Also, if you believed the rumors, was fucking the Dean, Erwin Smith. The source of these rumors was Mr. Rivaille himself. He ruled his classes with an iron fist and was the living embodiment of the saying “Speak softly and carry a big stick.”

The big stick is in no way a double entendre for the Dean’s penis. Just so you know.

Outside, Jean continued yelling, and if the large thumps were anything to go by, was flipping the furniture in the living room, as if the pranksters would be hiding under them. Ymir pulled her pillow over her ears and wished she hadn’t lost her Ipod. The screaming and thumping died down around six-thirty and Ymir was able to drift off into sleep again.

Only to be rudely awakened once more at seven by her alarm, which obnoxiously reminded her she had to be in her Calculus class in thirty minutes. She hit the snooze button, and went back to sleep.

She awoke feeling refreshed and ready to go three hours later. She looked at her clock, slapped a hand to her forehead and muttered, “fuck.”

Well, the day had started out on a bad note, and it was likely to continue in a similar fashion so Ymir didn’t really see the point of adhering to her regular schedule anyway. Rolling out of bed and getting up revealed that her uterus decided to do some redecorating, mainly on her sheets, which now bore a striking resemblance to the Japanese flag.

Speaking of Japanese shit, she now had a craving for sushi drowning in soy sauce. But was going to the cafeteria really worth putting on pants? Was anything really worth putting pants on for that matter?

Wow. She was getting philosophical, and she hadn’t even smoked anything yet.

Figuring a little more blood wouldn’t hurt the sheets, she pulled them off her bed, piled them on her computer chair, and proceeded to spend the next two hours fucking around on the internet. Pop-up adds on the porn sites she visited informed her she could be having sex with a real live person in fifteen minutes. They also told her how to lengthen her penis, which is knowledge every lesbian college student should know. Actually, Ymir wasn’t sure if she was even a lesbian. Sure she got off to seeing other girls get off but that didn’t mean anything, did it? Sexuality was weird and Ymir didn’t want to think about it. Besides, the sushi craving from earlier was making itself known again, and this time she was willing to put on pants and go get some. She could deal with the sheets later.

A few minutes later she was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with her unwashed hair in a ponytail. She ambled to the cafeteria, and bought a small tray of six plastic-wrapped california rolls, which came with two little soy sauce packets. That was nowhere near enough in Ymir’s opinion, but it was better than nothing.

She walked back outside, and sat on a bench by a sapling growing in a large cement pot. She ripped open the soy sauce packets with her teeth, dribbling some on her sweatshirt, and poured it on the rolls. As she ate, she eavesdropped, which was the best way to get caught up on campus gossip if you’re an antisocial recluse. Which Ymir wasn’t. She just had no friends and preferred to be alone. Yeah. That was it.

But that was literally the same thing so Ymir tried to come up with a different excuse. 

She couldn’t.

Ms. Ral, who was an art teacher, was apparently caught sniffing paint fumes after she and a student got into an argument on whether anime could be considered art. That was nothing new.

Ms. Zoe was offering extra credit to any student willing to be a test subject. For what, Ymir didn’t catch because the group of students discussing it was moving too fast. But it may or may not involve her two pet tarantulas Sawney and Bean.

Someone named Hitch could hitch you up with any drug you wanted.

People still didn’t know if Annie Leonhardt was dating Bertolt Hoover or Reiner Braun, who was rumored to be her cousin. Hell, people still didn’t know if Bertolt and Reiner were dating each other. Maybe they just had massive orgies in the janitor’s closet.

Someone’s boyfriend was coming to visit.

“I met him on Christianmingle.com!” The girl was saying proudly. “He’s so sweet and funny and handsome, and a godfearing man!” 

Ymir cast a cursory glance over the girl. She knew her name was Hannah, but didn’t know her last name.

“I really think Franz is the one you guys.” She was gushing to her friends. Ymir didn’t hear anymore because she was suddenly struck with a horrible idea. She stood up and moved so quickly students swore they saw an afterimage. Then they wondered if that girl even went to the Uni because nobody could remember seeing her before.

Twenty minutes later Ymir was cackling over her new Christianmingle profile, which read, “Ymir, age 21, Male.”

She sat back in her swivel chair (which was still covered by the bloody sheets) and put her hands behind her head.

Let the trolling commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so fucking stupid
> 
> and yet i find myself unable to stop


	3. Historia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theories are proven, classrooms are gassed, and Ymir discovers love at first sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> socially awkward quasi-lesbians. body humor because i am a prepubescent boy. and much bullshitting on knowledge of how dating websites work
> 
> this story has so much bullshit you could mistake it for a rodeo
> 
> yeehaw

In true Ymir fashion, she promptly forgot about the account for roughly a week. In that week, she discovered that her theory of massive orgies in the janitor’s closet was legit, and she now had seventy-five dollars from three embarrassed students. Well, Bertolt and Reiner were embarrassed. Annie’s face hadn’t even registered surprise when Ymir, on hearing suspicious noises, opened the door and saw Bertolt pinning her to the wall while Reiner was becoming very familiar with his ass. And it remained blank throughout Bertolt’s begging for her not to tell, and Reiner threats to make her life a living hell. Little did he know it already was a living hell, and that revelation both saddened and gladdened her.

“Are we done here?” The blonde girl had asked when the money had exchanged hands.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ymir said, stuffing the cash into her jeans pocket, reminding herself to put it in her wallet as soon as possible, otherwise she’d find herself in a situation where she needed it and opened her wallet to discover she left them in her other pair of pants.

“Good.” She turned and walked away, her bitches trailing after her.

“I hear room 291 is empty this period.” Ymir called. Annie raised a hand in acknowledgement. Bertolt seemed too mortified to do anything but stare at the ground, removing Reiner’s hand from his ass every few steps.

After that, Ymir really hoped she would never see a real penis again.

 She also accidentally unleashed a silent but deadly fart in her Wednesday History lecture (fuckin periods, she only wanted to pull her legs up on the seat) just as Mr. Rivaille happened to be passing by. He was cut off mid-sentence as he choked on the stench, bending over and dry-heaving, pounding his fist on the table. Class was dismissed early, with Mr. Rivaille giving Ymir the stink eye as she left. Pun fully intended.

Friday night was the night she showered and finally did laundry. As she lay in bed, reveling in the feeling of clean sheets against her clean skin, she suddenly remembered her idiotic prank. Excitedly, she leapt out of bed, but her leg got tangled in the sheets and she landed on her stomach so hard she could only inhale raspily for a few seconds. When she recovered, she pulled herself up using the corner of her desk as leverage, and opened her laptop, tapping her fingers nervously against her leg. She didn’t have very many messages, considering she didn’t put up a profile pic. In fact, she had none. So she took various pictures with her webcam, experimenting with poses and hairstyles until she was satisfied she appeared male. Five minutes passed, then she got her first message. She clicked on it.

Mother.

Of.

God.

This girl. Was adorable. Like seriously, she could model for....some cliche shit involving angels. Big blue eyes, hair the color of ripe corn... Ripe corn? Where the fuck did that come from? Of all the metaphors to describe blonde hair, her mind picked ripe corn? What. The fuck.

_"Hello,"_  Her message read, " _You're actually the first person I've messaged on this site, and uh...I think you're really cute!  I'm sorry if that's too forward of me, but I always try to be honest."_

That was one of their weird commandments, right? Like, "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor", right?  Ymir was impressed with how much she remembered from Vacation Bible Study back when she was four and her dad hadn't cheated, and her mom was always sober. Ah, memories.

_"Anyway, I'm Historia Reiss, like my profile says, and I'm sort of hoping for a friend more than anything else, but if God wills our relationship to be more than that, who are we to deny Him?"_

" _Sorry. That sounded less creepy in my head."_

Reiss. Reiss.  That name was vaguely familiar.  Reiss. Reiss.  Rice. Sushi. Yum.

Her family couldn't afford medical check-ups after her dad ran off with the landlady when she was five (Ymir, not the landlady), and her mom spent every penny on cheap booze and cheaper drugs, but Ymir was pretty sure she had ADHD or some shit like that.  According to the internet, she had all the symptoms, but then again there was last year's diagnosis with Early Onset Alzheimer's after she got her schedule mixed up and skipped every class for three days. Ymir continued reading.

_"I should just stop now before I weird you out even more.  Sorry, I'm not really used to  this method of communication.  I like talking face-to-face, y'know? You can read a person better that way."_

_"Oh gosh I'm rambling.  Sorry. I just think you're really cute and maybe we could be friends? Is that how dating websites work? Shut up Historia."_

_"So, uh...yeah.  If that didn't freak you out completely, I'll be waiting for your reply! :)"_

_Historia._

Oh man.

Oh  _man._

Even if Historia wasn't such a total cutie, Ymir would still feel guilty because this girl was just as awkward as her, but she did it in a really adorable way that somehow made it okay.

Shit, how should she reply?  _Should_ she even reply?  

But then she thought about poor Historia waiting for a message that would never come, most likely making her avoid internet communication henceforth.

Ymir had been called a soulless bastard on multiple occasions, but that didn't mean she was  _heartless._  And she knew better than anyone how the first rejection felt, after the disastrous incident in seventh grade where she got up the courage to ask another girl to the spring dance (that  _still_ didn't mean Ymir was a lesbian, the girl just had pretty eyes Ymir would've loved to gaze into as they slow-danced six inches apart on the supervised dance-floor. Although the eyes of her seventh grade crush didn't compare to the vast blue ocean that was Historia's) (Vast blue ocean? Again with the weird metaphors! They were as blue as the meth on Breaking Bad. Yeah. Perfect.) and the girl's laughter had followed Ymir all the way to the bathroom where she hid for the next half-hour.

Besides, answering a message didn't mean they'd be banging within the month.  Historia just wanted a friend. Ymir could do that. She could totally do that. Her fingers crept across the keys like pale tarantulas (another thing Ymir didn't like about herself was her freakishly mannish hands, but they threw a good punch when the situation required it so it was sort of a love/hate relationship) as Ymir carefully selected the words for her reply.  When she was done, she re-read it, and deleted it. Re-wrote it with slightly different wording.  Hovered her mouse over the send button.  Deleted it again. Changed the wording again. Ended up with the original message when she clicked "Send" thirty minutes later.

_"Don't worry, you didn't creep me out lol. You're the first person I've talked to too. We can totally be friends, but don't you think we should get to know each other first lol? You're pretty cute yourself btw._

_Like it says, I'm Ymir. I major in being a waste of space.  Still haven't found my true calling yet. What do you major in?_

_Sooooo...What re your interests? Favorite foods, movies, I dunno. I'm not good with people. Or socializing. Anything besides goofing off online and spacing out during class._

_And don't worry, it takes a lot to freak me out. I've seen it all and then some._

_Ymir._

Yes. Perfect. After the little "message sent!" icon popped up, Ymir felt a weird feeling bubbling up in her gut. Damn burritos.

It didn't take long for Historia to reply.

" _Ah, I'm glad!_

_Please don't call yourself a waste of space. I'm sure you have a purpose in this world, you just have to look for it!_

Well obviously, but looking required work and Ymir was severely allergic to taking things seriously.

_I'm majoring in Dance, right now, and everyone thinks I'm weird because they're all the kids of doctors and lawyers and they won't have to work to get what they want. My school is stupid and only allows classic forms of dance, ballet being the biggest, but I also do waltzes, foxtrots, and other ballroom dances. I really want to become a professional, but I also like coming up with my own dance moves and teaching them to others.  I wish they'd allow modern dancing, because i like that a lot.  Have you ever heard of capoeira? It's this really cool type of fighting that's been turned into a sort of dance. Here, I'll give you a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8xxgFpK-NM_

Ymir clicked on the link. She had to admit it was hella sweet. Then her filthy mind imagined the various positions Historia could contort herself into, or of her in a tight leotard, raising her leg high above her head while Ymir kissed down her inner thigh. Yeah baby.

_As to my favorite things, I'm fond of foreign cuisine.  My family has a French chef, and his crepes are to die for, I'm serious.  My favorite movie is Take the Lead, with that actor who played the dad on Spy Kids?_

A movie Ymir had seen once or twice.

Ok, so maybe it was more in the low hundreds. She had a thing for spy movies. Not James Bond though, she was annoyed by how perfectly everything went for him.  She did, however, approve of his taste in women. Her personal favorite was that psychic chick, Solitaire or Domino or whatever.

_"He plays a teacher in an inner-city school district who takes a roomful of delinquents and turns them into professional dancers. It's pretty awesome."_

Ymir added it to her movie list.

_So what's your favorite...T.V. show?_

Ymir was partial to Orange Is The New Black, but of course she couldn't put that down.  Shit, what T.V. show was there that didn't have buttsex in the subtext? Torchwood? Bad example. Supernatural? Not with all the pagan shit Sam and Dean Winchester did. Hannibal? Seriously disturbing, Historia might think she's a serial killer.

Aha! Leverage! Person of Interest! That last one was perfect because it had that Jim Caviar guy who played Jesus in that gory Passion movie. that would rack up some points, wouldn't it?

_What do you do when you;re not spacing out in class?_

Another question she couldn't answer truthfully.  She could draw, but she hadn't touched her sketchbook since July. Y'know, being a busy college student and everything. She could hardly find the time.  But technically, it was how she  _had_ spent her free time at one point, so it wasn't exactly lying and she'd go with it.

Speaking of free time, she remembered Krista had another show tonight. She'd have to stick to watching for a while though because she was seventy-five dollars away from going broke. She really needed a job, but there was that damn allergy to facing reality and shouldn't she put her health first?

_I'm going to get off now, since Finals is next week and I need to study. You should do the same!_

Indeed, Ymir had every intention of getting off soon.

_Goodnight Ymir!_

"Goodnight Historia." She said out loud. She typed up a reply, hit send, and went to her bookmarks. Clicked on a familiar link.  Krista didn't have her camera on yet, and the other viewers were bitching in the chatbox.  It was a few minutes before the camera flickered on, showing Krista, as usual, below the neck. She was wearing a black lacy bra and panty set with black thigh highs. Ymir took a moment to admire Krista's fit body (she had better abs than Ymir. Wonder what her exercise regime was.) then sent her a private message.

"ur late"

"I was talking to a friend. I have a social life you know."

"well xcuuuuuuse me princess"

"You're excused! :P"

Ymir was about to fire off a sassy reply telling Krista where she could put her tongue, but the other girl was sliding the strap off her shoulder and rubbing circles on the front of her panties.

Needless to say, the only class Ymir ended up studying for was Human Anatomy.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know how i got the idea of pornstar!krista in my head, i'm just really pissed off krista isn't her real name because it fit her so well and i got used to referring to her by it and i was like "shit what do i call her in this fic" and then my brain was like "make her a porn star" and i was all "SURE WHY NOT"


	4. A Day of Discoveries (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir is bribed and digs up more blackmail material. Then she does some jogging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i write the things i write

The next morning, Ymir woke up from a weird dream involving dancing spies fighting man-eating sex toys. Also, she made out with Jane Seymour at one point.

Looking at her alarm gave her a heart attack because  _oh fuck it's noon-thirty but oh yeah it's Saturday._  She only has her Chemistry lab at two and Astronomy's doing star maps at ten pm. Phew.

She laid in bed until she couldn't stand the taste of her morning breath and rolled out of bed. Literally she just rolled over until she fell off, wheezing slightly when she hit the floor.  Scootched herself like a caterpillar to the door where she stared at the knob and realized she had to stand up to reach it. Oh fine.  Opening the door gave her a surprise however, because Connie and Sasha were standing right outside, fists raised to knock.  Ymir was glad she was cocooned in her blankets because she actually  _did_ have the wang panties on this time and nothing else.

"Can I help you?" she asked, happily noting the lack of preserved corpses.

"We just wanted to say thanks for not tattling on us last week." Sasha said.

"And we wanted to give you this." Connie added, holding out a small white box.

"There's nothing dead in there, right?" She asked suspiciously, wiggling an arm out of the sheets to take the box.

"Wasn't even alive to begin with!" Sasha said cheerfully. Ymir is not reassured.  She sniffed the box for any hint of formaldehyde, but only smelled cardboard.  Still a bit suspicious, she pried off the lid.

"A fifty dollar gift certificate to McDonald's?" She raised an eyebrow. "Are you bribing me?"

"We see it as more of a gift of goodwill." Connie said, smiling widely.

"Also, we need to ask a favor, and you're pretty much our only option."

Ymir's eyebrow stayed up. Connie elbowed Sasha, who pulled an Iphone (4s) out of her sweatshirt pocket.

"Two days ago we acquired pictures of a certain English professor intoxicated to the point of making out with an anatomical dummy." She explained.

"Mr. Hannes?" Ymir asked.  The drunk part was nothing new, it was common knowledge amongst the students that his water bottle was actually filled with vodka (because teaching college students about dead authors nobody, not even the teacher himself really cared about, was bound to drive anyone to drinking) but really? An anatomical dummy? She would've pinned him as more of a Celine Dion cardboard cutout type of guy.

"When he woke up, he remembered he'd been photographed, but he couldn't remember who took the picture." Connie continued.

"So he's demanding to check the phones of every student who looks suspicious, and naturally..." Sasha said.

"We're public enemy number one. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to hide this phone for a few days giving us the chance to prove our innocence." Connie said.

"Couldn't you just, oh I don't know, hide it somewhere?" Ymir asked.

"Too dangerous. The dude who checks our dorm is super strict and a total teacher's pet.  Your dorm is famous for having an RA who doesn't give a rat's ass." 

"What's my incentive?" She asked, squinting at the cellphone.

"We will owe you a favor!" Sasha announced proudly.

"Will you buy me a pizza? Not one of those shitty frozen ones either, I'm talking a large, all-topping, cheesy crust motherfucker from Pizza Hut." Ymir said.

"Medium, two toppings, regular crust and cinnamon sticks." Connie shot back.

"Done." Ymir said, snatching the phone.  Identical Stepford smiles stretch over their faces. Ymir resists the urge to cross herself.

"Wonderful! Great doin business with you!" They linked arms and sashayed away, presumably to wreck more havoc on the unsuspecting campus.

Ymir briefly wondered about the photos, but she decided she didn't want to know so soon after waking up.

Two o clock came faster than she expected. She burst into the classroom ten minutes late, but she hadn't missed anything because Sawney and Bean had escaped their containers and Ms. Hanji was making everyone look.

No, it was  _Mx._ Hanji, Ymir reminded herself, setting her backpack down.  Like the rest of the student body, Ymir had a hard time remembering the proper pronouns to use for their instructor.  Mx. Hanji, for the most part, was pretty androgynous in looks, but had a distinct feminine appearance and her,  _zir's,_ tendency to wear skirts occasionally, and leave zir's chest unbinded confused Ymir. Cis-normative scum that she was. 

Five minutes later a distraught Hanji was wailing over the smashed arachnid corpses in a corner, zir's harried TA Moblit consoling her. Ymir left the class wondering if she could milk another twenty-five bucks from Annie after seeing the other girl surreptitiously scrub at the bottom of her combat boots with a sheet of looseleaf, since the paper towel dispensers were out.

After all that shrieking Ymir wanted to be in a quiet place that didn't smell like hormones and frustration, so she swung by her dorm room to grab her laptop and headed to the library.

Shit. Eren Jaeger was there, and even if he could keep his goddamn mouth shut, there was a possibility Jean would walk in and shit would go down. But then again, his sister and best friend were there with him, and they might be able to prevent a scene.  Armin had a fuckin silver tongue when it came to calming people down. Then Ymir wondered what it would be like to actually have a silver tongue, like, how would you give a blowjob?

Mikasa had her long ebony hair pulled into a high ponytail, and she looked really good. Ymir hoped her staring wasn't too obvious as the girl pulled out a tube of lipgloss and ran the wand over her full lips, smacking them a few times, wiping gently at the corners with a fingertip, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, and tapped her pencil against her chin.

She understood Jean, or at least his past self, a whole lot better after watching that.

Ymir vaguely remembered starting an essay for her World Lit. class, and when she checked, she found she had a grand total of one line, which read, "Aight bitches listen up cuz yo ass is bout to get schooled on the works of Leo fuckin Tolstoy."

After snickering to herself for a few seconds, she cracked her knuckles and got to work on the rest of the essay.

Seven minutes later, she still had one line. So she decided to check her email.

Balls. there was an email from the Dean with the subject, "Concerning your failing grades".  Stomach filled with queasy dread, she opened it.

_It has come to my attention that out of everyone in your grade, you have the lowest GPA.  Come to my office before four o clock to discuss the matter of your continued stay here._

_Sincerely,_

_Erwin Smith, Dean of  the University of Trost._

Shit piss cunt motherfucking asswipe. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be expelled! She...She...

Fuck, what time was it? Three forty five! Shit! She abandoned her laptop in the library and ran as fast as she could to the Dean's office.

The Dean's secretary looked up in alarm as she barreled into the waiting room area outside.  Panting heavily, one hand bracing itself on her knee, the other wiping her sweaty forehead, Ymir took a few moments to compose herself.  Straightening up, she adjusted her clothes, and headed for the office door.

"Um, Miss..." The secretary started, but Ymir waved a hand at her.

"S'alright, he's expecting me." She said, opening the door. What she saw next was forever burned into her retinas.

Mr. Rivaille was straddling the Dean's lap, wearing the cheerleading uniform of Trost High along with a pair of fishnet stockings and leather gloves. He was stroking a riding crop down Mr. Smith's cheek, who was gripping Mr. Rivaille's ass through the skirt and moving his hips slowly. His eyes were closed and he was mumbling something along the lines of, "Yes, punish me, I've been a bad boy."

Ymir gasped very audibly. Mr. Smith's eyes flew wide open and his mouth dropped in surprise.

"You...I thought you wouldn't show up..." He said hoarsely. Mr. Rivaille looked over his shoulder, a disinterested expression on his face..

What Ymir did next could be argued as the most stupidest thing anyone has ever done in the history of anything. She whipped out the Iphone and snapped a picture.  Then she turned around and fled for her life, desperately praying that Mr. Rivaille wasn't badass enough to chase after her in six inch stilettos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many times will Ymir walk in on people having sex? Place your bets now!
> 
> my favorite part about the ending scene is thinking about Erwin and Rivaille's thought process right before like
> 
> WELP. IT'S THREE FORTY FIVE. SHE'S CLEARLY NOT COMING. MIGHT AS WELL HAVE SEX.
> 
> or maybe they're suffering from alzheimer's cuz they're old as balls


	5. A Day of Discoveries (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shocking discoveries are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this story is so much easier than my other ones because my brain just gives me the stupidest scenario possible and i don't even pause to think i just roll with it man it's awesome
> 
> i should seriously consider changing the name of this to you've got blackmail

She didn't stop running until she was four blocks away from Uni, and even then she listened for the sound of heels slamming into pavement, no doubt leaving little holes in their wake.  But all she heard was the rapid beating of her heart and her dying elephant-like gasps for air. Her legs ached. Multicolored spots danced in front of her eyes.  She didn't even register she had collapsed until she was staring up at the sky, thinking one cloud looked like a horse dildo.

That brought images of what she was fleeing from to the front of her mind and she began to laugh uncontrollably.  She couldn't pinpoint what was so fucking  _funny,_ Mr. Rivaille in drag, Mr. Smith begging to be punished, the look on his face when he saw her, or the look on his face in the millisecond after taking the picture and booking it.

Was this even real? She checked the phone and burst out laughing again when she saw that yes, this was definitely a thing that happened.

"Oh god, what is my life?" She gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. Her sides hurt from running and laughing so hard.  That "Preparing For College" pamphlet she got way back in her last year at highschool had nothing on how to prepare her for this situation. "Go to your guidance counselor with any questions you might have!" it had said. Ymir tried to envision  _that_ particular scenario.

"Yeah, I gotta question for you, what do I do if I walk in on the Dean getting a lapdance from a professor in drag? Is there a hotline I can call, books you can give me?"

"Why I have just the thing! A helpful website called DiddlingtheDean.gov!"

"Dot gov? God bless America."

That sent Ymir into a fresh gale of giggling, which was interrupted when a pedestrian stopped and asked if she was okay.

"Finals week." She said by way of explanation.

"Get well soon." The stranger replied uneasily, edging slowly away from the deranged college student.

 _I will if I have Nurse Rivaille taking care of me_. Ymir thought, imagining her professor in a sexy nurse's outfit, taking Mr. Smith's temperature with his meat thermometer.

And just like that she grossed herself out.

"But what if they actually _have_ done that?" She wondered aloud in horror.  She had skipped many a class period by feigning illness and sleeping on one of the four cots in the Health Office's back room. She sat up suddenly, her eyes widening.

Oh.

Oh god.

Her first day at Uni, she was a nervous wreck and puked during her first class's rolecall.  She had spent the rest of the day in the cotroom, but she had to ask for a new pillow because someone there previously had drooled on it and it had dried there and-

"Oh my god that wasn't drool!" She screamed in terror, hands coming up to claw at her face.  The stranger picked up his pace, practically running away so he wouldn't catch the crazy. The noise she made next sounded like a bird of prey shrieking as she remembered that  _she had picked at the drool and watched it flake off._  Her hands flew away from her face and she stared at them in revulsion.  Had she bit her nails after that?  _Had she bit her nails after that?_

Sweet mary mother of mercy no she hadn't. Oh thank God.

"Oh god what is my life?" She whispered shakily.  She felt unclean. She needed to wash her hands  _right now._  If her memory was correct, there was a gas station the next street over, and since Trost was a (somewhat) respectable town, she was pretty sure she wouldn't catch syphilis from the water supply.

She hoped.

As she walked, she noticed signs in people's front yards, emblazoned with campaign slogans.  Oh right, it was election season.  Most of the signs she saw were for Dot Pixis.  He'd make a sweet governer in Ymir's opinion. A Vietnam veteran, Pixis had a cool, commanding air about him, but he was also laid-back on the snippets of interviews Ymir had seen.  He was a staunch supporter of reproductive rights for women, marriage equality, and had some good ideas concerning small business owners.  He also had an impressive collection of medals and trophies from various extreme sports competitions.  He was a rad grandpa, and Ymir (along with Trost's population of young adults) planned on voting for him.

In contrast, she saw virtually no signs for his opponent, who was everything Ymir hated in a politician.  A wealthy middle age white man, who was an advocate for man-lady marriage, abstinence as the only form of birth control, and all for sticking more religion into anything he could cram it into.  Since she despised him, Ymir never bothered remembering his name. Something like Price, or Wise, or...

 _Vote Lod Reiss for governor!_ One lone sign proclaimed.  The lawn it was situated in had a statue of the Virgin Mary nestled in between some hydrangea bushes, which appeared to be suffering from a fungus of some so-

Wait.

Reiss?

"Holy fucking shit." Ymir said in disbelief. Today was just _full_ of discoveries, wasn't it?

A burning desire to get her precious laptop surged through Ymir, but dammit, she had left the thing back at the library, on campus, totally open for anyone to look through.

Ymir was well and truly fucked.

 _Not as fucked as Mr. Rivaille._ A treacherous voice whispered inside her head.

"Oh god." Ymir whimpered, covering her face with her hands.  She must have fucked up serious shit in her past life to deserve this.

Then she walked into a tree and had to put her hands back down.

She made it to the gas station unmolested, and ducked inside.  A pimply teen with thick glasses was behind the counter.  Ymir ignored him as she beelined for the bathroom and scrubbed her hands in scalding water for a few minutes. There seemed to be a paper towel shortage, so she wiped her hands on her jeans.  It would be the closest thing to cleaning they've gotten in a while.

Ymir sidled up to the counter and flashed her ID, asking for the cheapest carton of cigarettes.

"Will that be all?"He asked, shoving his glasses up with his middle finger. Ymir wondered if he was subtly flipping her off or if that was just a habit. Was he aware of the developing monobrow on his forehead?

"Miss?"

"Uh, hang on." She said with a shake of her head. She grabbed a lighter, and slid that across the counter. Noticed there was a sale on powdered mini-donuts.  Then she'd need something salty to balance out the sweet. Potato chips. And of course eating all that would make her thirsty. Bottle of water.  Done.

"11.75 is your total." He said. Ymir looks down into her wallet. All she has is a measly five dollar bill.

What? Didn't she blackmail a few people? Yeah, she put the money in her pocket...of her other pants...which were back in her room.

"Just the cigs and lighter." She mumbled, heat rising on her face. "I'll put away everything else."

He bagged her purchase while she replaced the donuts, chips and water.

"Oh, I don't need a bag." She said, taking her things out. "Thanks anyway though."

"Have a nice day." He called as she left.

"Yeah, you too."

She squatted down on the curb just outside and pulled out a cigarette. She doesn't smoke very often, but since she'll die when she goes back to school, she figures what the hell?

If she can get the goddamn lighter to work.  She's always used matches before, and consequently has never gotten the hang of it. She can't do anything right.

No, wait, there we go. A tiny plume of orange dances above the red plastic container. She lit her cigarette, and sat back.

Where does she go from here? If she had any chance of staying, it was blown the moment she took the picture. She could buy a bus ticket and then...? Work at a gas station like Monobrow Boy? Deal drugs? Either way her life was wasted and the only difference was where she was wasting it.  Jail was sorta like college, right? And what should she do about the whole Historia situation? Just drop it?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice a black car pulling up, or the person that got out and walked towards her.  All she knows is that suddenly, a pair of very shiny, very expensive looking shoes are standing in front of her and a male voice has just said her name.  She slowly looked up.  the rest of the guy is dressed just as expensively as his feet. What is that, Armani? A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes.

"Ye-es?" She asked, exhaling smoke.

"My name is Farlan Church. I've been sent to collect you."

"By who?" She asked. Is Historia's father behind this? Making sure whoever his baby girl is talking to won't ruin his image? How did he even find her?

"Mr. Rivaille, your History professor."

She snorted, and brought the cigarette back to her mouth.

"Please do not make me use force." He said. "It is not my intention to hurt you unless you put up a fight."

She stared up at him, blinking in confusion.

"Who are you?"

He sighed. 

"I just told you. Farlan Church. Your professor sent me to find you."

"What are you, his teaching assistant?"

"Something like that, yes."

"What kinda teaching assistant can afford Armani?"

"One who works for Mr. Rivaille."

He's a smooth sonnuva bitch, she'll give him that.

She crushed the tip of the cigarette against the curb and stood.

"Alright, ain't like I got nothing better to do." She's acting cool, but her palms are sweaty, her knees are weak, and her arms feel like spaghetti. Wait, wasn't that a song?

"Excellent." He said, offering her a tight smile. She followed him to the car, where he opened the door for her.  She slid inside, breathing in that new car smell.  The seats are soft and supple. This car is worth more than she is. Hell, one of Farlan's shoes is worth more than she is. She feels like a piece of bacteria in the lush interior with her grubby sneakers and clothes she's worn three days in a row. The door closed with a soft click.

There's a woman in the front passenger seat with hair so red it has to be dyed.  She's dressed identical to Farlan, and she turned back in her seat, sliding her shades down to reveal eyes as green as radioactive ooze in old 90's cartoons.

"Can I see it?" She whispered excitedly.

"See what?"

"The picture! Quick, before Farlan comes back."

Not knowing what else to do, Ymir gave her the phone.

"Hot damn." She said under her breath. "Hot  _damn._ I knew he was into kinky shit, but I never would've suspected  _crossdressing."_

"What the hell's going on?" Ymir finally gathered to brain cells to ask, but the door to the driver's seat opened and the woman quickly tossed the phone into Ymir's lap.

"I'm Isabel Magnolia. Nice ta meetcha!"

"Goddamn it Isabel, what happened to maintaining a professional air on the job?" Farlan hissed as he sat down.

"Aw relax, Farlan, this isn't  _really_ a job. For starters, no one's shooting at us, and the gas station hasn't exploded and there aren't even any drugs!"

"Isabel! Shut. Up."

"Oops!" She turned back to Ymir, hands clasped in front of her face as if she were praying. "Pretend I didn't say all that. Hey, do you like Pat Benatar?" she pressed a button on the dashboard.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot blasted out of the speakers as they pulled out of the gas station's parking lot, but only for a moment. Farlan turned it off,ignoring Isabel's protests.

"I'll sing it myself~" She said in a sing songy voice.

Pat Benatar is turned back on.

By the time they reach Uni, little white crescents of fingernail are scattered across the floor, and Ymir's begun to bite her skin as well.  Isabel and Farlan get out, Isabel opening Ymir's door for her, and they strolled across campus to the Dean's office, ignoring the whispers and stares of watching students.

The secretary does not look at them as they enter, focusing all her attention on the computer screen in front of her.

Mr. Rivaille is perched atop a corner of Mr. Smith's desk, fully clothed thank god in his usual attire of black slacks, white shirt and black tie.  The Dean is looking out through the window, hands behind his back, but he turned around when he heard them enter.

"Ymir." He said with a smile. "Sit down. Let's talk."

 _Tell my mother I love her._ Ymir thought as Farlan closed the door, the click of the lock sending chills down her spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fuckin fic has more crack than a room full of plumbers i s2g
> 
> yoooo i wrote what happened the day they got freaky in the nurse's office 
> 
> check it: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2673845/chapters/6351044


	6. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plot point is revealed. Ymir blackmails again, is bribed again and makes a few friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets play a game called "how many lame references can i cram into one chapter" go go go
> 
> also, to each and every single one of my readers, *gathers you up into my arms**smooches your forehead**buys you ice cream**unless you're lactose intolerant**then it sucks to be you*

She gets to stay in school.

Under a few conditions.

"You will tell no one about what you witnessed." Mr. Rivaille had begun, but was interrupted by Isabel's barely contained snickering.  Mr. Rivaille's eyes went to her.

"I thought I told you this was on a need-to-know basis." He said icily.

"Yeah, I  _needed_ to know what got you so worked up. The riding crop I expected, but the crossdressing came waaaaaay outta the left field."

"Farlan."

"Yes sir?"

"Did you see the picture as well?"

"No sir."

"Good. At least one of you is competent."

"But I did imagine it sir. Green is definitely your color."

"Farlan."

"Yes sir."

"Shut the hell up."

"Add fishnet stockings and leather gloves." Ymir heard Isabel whisper.

"For real?"

"Stilettos too."

"Damn, seriously?"

"I know, right?"

"Both of you shut your goddamn mouths." Mr. Rivaille growled. "You're my best operatives. Fucking act like it."

"Sorry boss." Came their glum reply.

Mr. Rivaille's gaze slid back to Ymir.

"Give me the phone." He said softly, holding his hand out.

"It's not mine." She said quickly. "It's Sasha's. I was holding on to it for her."

"I know. You're doing them a favor. I'll tell Mr. Hannes the perpetrators were caught and dealt with accordingly."

"How did you..."

"Know? Ymir, not a damn thing happens in this school without me knowing about it. I have my resources."

Ymir gave him the phone. He tucked it into his pocket, and crossed his arms.

"That isn't the only condition, Ymir." Erwin said, sitting down at his desk and staring at her over his folded hands like he was Gendo Ikari or something. "You''ll have to catch up on all your missing class work, stop skipping, and pass your finals."

She can do that.  She can totally do that.

"You will also have to assist your professors with various odd jobs they may need help doing in your free time."

And like that they've lost her.

"Not without getting paid." She said.

"Fat chance." Mr. Rivaille said. Ymir grinned wickedly.

"If I'm not, guess who'll be headlining in tomorrow's paper?"

Mr. Rivaille's eyes widened fractionally. Ymir continued, growing more confident.

"Oh yeah. Judging by Tweedledee and Tweedledum back there," She jerked a thumb at them and they made noises of protest. "You've got a much bigger secret than a little hanky-panky with the Dean.  I emailed the photo to myself, and it's in my inbox right now, so even if you destroy the phone, I'll still have evidence."

Mr. Rivaille's nostrils flared slightly. Ymir hoped he couldn't smell her bluff.

"She's got some serious cojones." Isabel whispered to Farlan.

The silence that settle over the room was thick and oppressive; Ymir barely dared to breath as Mr. Rivaille pinned her under the weight of his steely gaze.

"I sincerely doubt you did as you said."

"Guess we'll find out tomorrow morning then, huh?" She fired back.  Mr. Rivaille blinked once. Twice. Then...smiled? The corners of his mouth lifted up subtly and a look of appraisal appeared in his eyes.

"Alright." He finally said. "It's a deal. I'd shake your hand to seal it but it's probably all sweaty."

"Same to you, 'cept yours has probably got dried jizz on it."

His expression turned to one of amusement and he made a little "hm!" noise.

"I  _like_ her." Isabel announced.

"I'm glad we could all handle this like adults." Mr. Smith said. "Ymir, thank you for what little discretion you gave us."

"You're welcome?"

The amused look vanished from Mr.Rivaille's face and in its place was his famed Thousand Mile Stare that could see through desks and the back of his head like he was Mad-Eye fuckin Moody.

"You have till the count of five to get out of this office." He said. "One."

The door slammed shut just as he finished saying two.

"Can we hire her?" Isabel begged.

"Hell no. She's seen me in a compromised position, she'd never take me seriously."

"But we've seen the picture too, right Farlan?" The redhead asked, rounding on her companion.  Farlan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The main difference here is that Ymir is a student, and therefore can only be subjected to petty, somewhat legal tortures.  However, you and I do not exist in the eyes of the government, and you of all people know how creative our boss can be. Need I remind you of what happened in Chartres?"

"Aha..." Isabel visibly paled, shaking her hands in front of her. "No, I remember just fine.  Kinda hard to forget something like that."

"What happened in Chartres will seem like a pleasant vacation compared to what I have planned for you two."  Mr. Rivaille cut in.  "You really shouldn't have seen that picture Isabel. And Farlan," Farlan jolted like he'd been shocked. "Keep your fantasies to yourself next time. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." they replied.

"Good. Now get a move on, I have a class to teach and you've got surveillance work to do. That traitor isn't going to bust himself."

"Are we still on next Friday for dinner?" Mr. Smith asked as Farlan and Isabell trudged out of the room.

"Of course." Mr. Rivaille said immediately. "I'll always make time for you." He left a quick peck on the Dean's cheek before heading off to his class.

***

Ymir is ambushed by Connie and Sasha the moment she leaves the Administration building.

"Holy shit Ymir, was that the FBI you were with?" Connie asked excitedly.

"Oh, or the Men in Black? Did you come across an alien UFO crash site?" Sasha bounced updown updown updown and Ymir does  _not_ look at her jiggling jugs in that tight t-shirt because she is  _not_ a horny frat boy dammit. She has  _standards._ _  
_

"C'mon Ymir." Connie whined. "Tell us!"

"Tell us, tell us, tell us, tell us!" The numbskulls begin to chant and Ymir is so not dealing with this shit right now so she told them to piss off and went to see if her laptop was where she left it.

She froze when she saw Mikasa Ackerman reading a book with Ymir's computer perched in her lap.  Mikasa looked up when she heard Ymir's hesitant footsteps.

"I thought I'd watch over it while you were gone." She explained, closing her book, which Ymir sees is a battered copy of _Battle Royale_ , in the original Japanese text. Dang.

Then Ymir realized there was nothing to be impressed with once you remembered that itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini piece of information that Mikasa was adopted from Japan, and was probably fluent in her own fucking language.

God Ymir, you're such a dumbass.

After years of isolation, Ymir had developed a sort of sixth sense that knew when she was being mocked. That sense was buzzing in her brain, and she wondered who the asshole was this time.

"T-thanks." She stuttered, reaching for her laptop, then reeling her hand back in when she realized it would be hella awkward to grab it straight from Mikasa's lap.  Thankfully, the other girl didn't seem to notice, and handed Ymir her laptop.

"No problem." She said, brushing a few loose hairs out of her eyes. "Your name's Ymir, right?"

"That's my name don't wear it out." She said, a rush of lava-hot embarrassment washing over her as soon as the words left her mouth. God, she was such an idiot.

There was that buzzing feeling again. Ymir clutched her laptop to her chest as if it would shield her from whatever invisible audience was watching her multitude of fuck-ups.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman.'

 _I know_ is balancing on the tip of Ymir's tongue, but she managed to swallow it down before she accidentally said it.

"N-nice to meet you too." Ymir replied, eyes looking everywhere but at Mikasa's own dark ones.

"Huh. you're the first person to not make a shitty pun with my name and the Spanish word for house." She said, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly.

"I don't speak Spanish. In fact, I barely speak English." Ymir blurted out and resists the urge to slap herself.

Amazingly, Mikasa laughed. Laughed! And not in a mean condescending way either! It was as if Ymir had said something clever.

"Nice." she smiled.  Ymir wondered what brand of toothpaste she used because her teeth were so white they probably couldn't dance. Did this girl have any flaws?

"I need to go to class now, before I'm late. Mr. Rivaille can be a real bitch if you interrupt him."

"I know what you mean." Ymir said, reveling in the lack of a stutter.

"See you around!" With a wave of her fingers and a swirl of skirts and flowery perfume, she was gone.

Ymir couldn't believe it. An actual social interaction with a pretty girl that didn't end in total embarrassment.

Things were looking up.

 _Things are looking down._ Ymir thought sourly when she saw Connie hold the door open for Mikasa with a flourish, who barely glanced at him as she swept by. A small part of Ymir's mind rejoiced in selfish glee.

"If I give you money will you go away?" Ymir asked flatly as the Doublemint Twins from hell trotted up to her.

"Resources tell us you're as broke as the vase from Ouran so don't even bother."

"I understood that reference."

"What you did there. I see it." Sasha grinned, shooting Ymir a double-pistols-and-a-wink. Ymir groaned.

"So what's the 411?What was with the representatives from a vague-yet-menacing government agency?" Connie asked.

"It's a long story." Ymir replied, inching towards the library doors.

"Great! You can tell us over pizza!" Sasha said triumphantly.

"Three large, all-topping, cheesy crust with cinnamon sticks." Connie added.

Forty five minutes later, they're enjoying pizza in Ymir's room, Sasha and herself on the bed, Connie on the floor. 

"A  _cheerleading_ uniform?" Sasha repeated for the nth time.

"It all it's green white and blue glory." Ymir confirmed through a mouthful of heaven covered in tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese and every topping imaginable. Except anchovies. Because those are gross.

"Oh my god." she said, leaning back on her hands. "Oh. My.  _God."_ She repeated with a shake of her head. "I thought all those rumors were made up!"

"I'm more concerned with the possible ties our professor has to the Mafia." Connie said, taking a bite of his third slice and seeing how far he could pull the cheese before it snapped. "Crossdressing just pales in comparison to a bloodthirsty life of crime."

"True dat." Sasha agreed, patting her belly.  She's already tucked away half a pizza and doesn't show any signs of slowing down.

"He confiscated you guys's phone though." Ymir said, licking a splatter of sauce off her arm. "Sorry."

Connie waved his hand at her.

" 'S cool." He said casually. 

"Yeah, your story totally makes up for it." Sasha reached for her eighth slice and Ymir watched with the same sick fascination a group of bystanders give a horrific accident, like if a bunch of nuns were run over by a speeding Greyhound.

Something like that. Where does that girl put it all, her boobs?

"One thing's for sure I won't be able to look either of them in the face without laughing like a moron."

"Oh god, please don't." Ymir begged. "One of the conditions for me to stay in school was to keep quiet about the whole thing."

She still can't believe she's breaking her promise two hours after making it. That's gotta be some kind of record. Slap that shit into Guinness. Hell yeah.

"Mum's the word." Connie promised.

"Mummmmmmmm." Sasha hummed, cheeks bulging with pizza.

"Did you just reference Galaxy Quest."

"Aw yea, lay it on me!" Connie crowed. He and Sasha high-fived.

"You're like, the best person ever at guessing our lame references." Sasha said after swallowing.Ymir shrugged.

"I have a lot of time on my hands."

"Yeah, we've noticed you're kind of a hermit." Sasha said.

It's one thing to tell yourself you're a hermit, but it's a whole 'nother thing to hear someone say it out loud.

"I have friends." She argued weakly. "Kind of."

"Oh yeah? Who."

Ymir gestured helplessly with her pizza slice for a few seconds,

"Friends...Y'know...Online friends." She finished lamely.  Sighing heavily, she stared down at her lap.  The conversation had been going so well, too.

"Well I for one am offended." Connie announced, licking his fingers. Ymir looked at him in confusion.

"Yeah, after all we've been through, you don't consider us your friends?" Sasha pouted.

Ymir's stomach does a flip.

"This is, like, our third conversation." She pointed out.

"And if that isn't a sign of developing friendship, I don't know what is!" Connie told her cheerfully.

"I..." Ymir stared down at her lap again.

"Take your time." Sasha said kindly, patting her on the back.

That awkward moment of letting her guard down passed and soon the conversation goes to complaining about classes, professor's, student fees and is four fingers really considered fisting, or does it have to be your whole hand to count?

No one is entirely sure how they got onto that last topic.

It's half past eight when Connie and Sasha depart, telling Ymir they have a prank to set up involving Eren Jaeger, Psychology's maze rats, and copious amount of mayonnaise. Or Miracle Whip. They haven't decided.

Ymir is happy to remain ignorant.

They've left her with half a pizza, an entire weeks worth of breakfast's and Ymir thinks "fuck it" and starts on another slice as she logged on to read Historia's message.

_Oh I love Person of Interest! Shaw is such a, pardon my french, badass, don't you think? Lady Killer is my favorite episode, what's yours?_

_I hope you've spent some time studying for finals.  I'm supposed to choreograph my own ballet routine for Dance, but all I've been doing is watching breakdancing videos on Youtube. Shh, don't tell anyone!_

_This might seem too personal, but what's your family like? My dad drives me up a wall with his perfectionism and all my mom does is sit there and look glamorous in case Candid Camera's roaming the neighborhood.  I can't wait to get away from it all and be my own person y'know? Not worry how my actions affect the family's image._

_Historia._

Ymir's reply read:

_Oh dang, Lady Killer's my fav episode too, i love badass women.  Zoe Morgan's my favorite, but Root's downright creepiness is just...Like, that one scene, in Aletheia? She's insane!_

_I promise I will study for Finals sometime tonight._

_My family's not exactly appie-pie. A little backstory is, my dad knocked my mom up sping break of their Junior year in highschool, and after they graduated, her parent's forced him to marry her.  After the both of them passed away, he ran off with the landlady.  Haven't heard from him since. Don't really want to, considering how depressed mom got. She made...questionable choices concerning our money and it's been a steady downward spiral ever since.  I think she honestly loved him. But as much as some of her habits and addictions disgust me, she's the only thing I got, and being on my own really scares me. In fact, first day at Uni, I got so nervous I puked during rollcall and spent the rest of the day crying in the Nurse's office. Go on, laugh, I know you want to._

_I'm not surprised to hear your father is a perfectionist, considering he's Lod Reiss. When were you gonna drop_  that  _bomb, little_ _missy?_

_Ymir._

Ymir sat back in her chair, chewing on her already decimated nails.  Historia's the first person she's told that too.  Does she really want to open herself up to this total stranger?

But Ymir was sick of being alone, and she wanted a friend just as badly as Historia. So she clicked send.

Surprisingly, she actually does end up studying for her finals, even finishing that damn essay. She'll delete all the sassy lines right before she emails it to her professor.

She ended up accidentally missing Astronomy though. But hey, they never said she had to stop skipping  _today_ so it should be good, right? Right.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the galaxy quest movie sasha and connie are referring to is sort of a parody on star trek and really the only actor that matters is sigourney weaver who is fed up with everyone's sexist bullshit go check it out, it's a good way to waste a few hours. oh yea the scene they are referencing is around 1:00 here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68PKNjftFeg
> 
> also person of interest is awesome too it's about this machine that spits out social security numbers of people about to be involved in crimes and these two dorks who try to help said people.
> 
> i don't care how many cool lines jim caviezel's character spits out he is a dork 
> 
> and as long as i'm telling you what to watch go look up Cloudburst on Netflix it's about elderly lesbians who watch porn, break each other out of nursing homes and go on road trips to canada with a male stripper/hitchhiker


	7. Mr. Rivaille Proves He Isn't A Total Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir lends a hand, mouths off, makes a new friend, and gets herself in serious shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to draw out ymir and historia's online friendship a bit longer but this story going way too fast for that. it is dumb.
> 
> but i'm really proud of how sassy ymir is

Nothing happened on Sunday. She spent the morning masturbating, the afternoon desperately trying to get her laptop to work but the damn thing won't turn on, and the evening playing catch-up with all her classes.

Monday actually went pretty well considering Murphy's law is a hundred times more powerful on a Monday.  She woke up a few seconds before her alarm went off, and instead of pulling the blankets up over her head and going back to sleep, she got out of bed. Normally too. That also should get her a gold medal.  Even better, she was fully dressed when she left her room. Wow.

"Hey Marco." She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.  Marco Bodt was the most tolerable person in this pissing school and Ymir couldn't hate him no matter how she tried.  Admittedly, she didn't try very hard. He was just too damn  _nice._

"Hello Ymir. You look beautiful this morning, if I may say." Marco replied, turning his head at the sound of her voice.

"Hey thanks!" she said with a grin that quickly disappeared. "Asshole."

Ymir made it her policy to never believe compliments, especially when they come from blind people.

"No, I mean it." He insisted, head following the sound of her footsteps as she walked around.  "You're positively radiant."

"Stop." She grumbled, sprawling down on the couch next to him. 

"That's the best thing about being blind though." Marco said, turning his sightless brown eyes on her.  "Every woman is Aphrodite. Every man is Adonis."

Ymir had long stopped trying to figure out Marco's sexuality. So far, she knew he was heterosexual on Tuesday's, asexual on Thursday's, bisexual on Friday's and gay every other Sunday.   She hasn't figured out Monday, Wednesday and Saturday yet.

Marco continued, "And every non-binary person is an exquisitely carved statue of a forgotten god with beautifully cruel features and eyes glittering with mad genius."

Ymir blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"Yeah, that does sound like Mx. Hanji." she agreed.

"Speaking of which, Ymir, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

Marco scratched the side of his face.

"I seem to have misplaced my walking stick.  Or maybe someone is just holding onto it for me and hasn't had a chance to give it back yet. Either way, I don't want to wander around campus by myself.  If you're not busy, could you walk me to my Physics class?"

"Sure." Ymir said. "What time?"

"Seven."

Ymir gave him an "are-you-freakin-kidding-me" look, then belatedly realized it was wasted on him.

"Marco, it's seven-fifteen."

"I'm aware." He said amiably.

"Were you just going to sit here until someone came along?"

"I seem to have done just that." He smiled cheerfully.

"What about Jean, isn't he like your seeing-eye dog?"

"With the speed he walks, a seeing-eye racehorse would be more of an apt description."

"Seeing-eye horse. Whatever. Why not ask him?"

"He is confined to the dormitory until all twelve rats are found." Marco explained.  "Apparently, someone overheard him striking a deal with Sasha and Connie, and tattled.  How those two managed to get away with it is beyond me, but all the blame fell solely on Jean.

"Well that sucks."

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Guess we'd better get going then." Ymir said, standing up. "Hey, have you had breakfast yet?"

"I have been sitting here for the past hour Ymir." Marco replied dryly. "What do you think?"

A few minutes later, they're off to Marco's class with a cold pizza slice each.

Ymir's kind deed swiftly comes around to bite her in the ass when they reach the Physics room just as Mr. Rivaille is leaving.

"Bodt. There you are. I believe this is yours." He held a short white stick out to Marco, who waved his hand around in the air until he found it.

"Thank you so much Mr. Rivaille!" He beamed, and so infectious is a genuine Marco Bodt smile, even Mr. Rivaille returned it. "Where did you find it?"

"It's better if you don't know." Mr.Rivaille replied. "But the perpetrators have been dealt with, and they won't steal your cane again."

"You're the best Mr. Rivaille." Only Marco Bodt would say that and mean it. "That's a nice tie by the way."

"Thank you. It was a gift."

Mr. Rivaille is not wearing a tie this morning, Ymir noted.

"Well, have a nice day you two." He extended the cane to its full length and walked into the classroom. Physics is also taught by Mx. Hanji, who along with the ever-frazzled TA Moblit, make up the entire science department at University of Trost.  Budget cuts have been really tough lately.

"Earning your Girl Scout badge Ymir?" Mr. Rivaille asked as the door shut. Ymir hooked her fingers through her beltloops and grinned.

"It's just something I do in my free time sir. What I'm really interested in is cheerleading. Could you give me any tips?"

Mr. Rivaille shook his head.

"Just stay out of trouble wiseass." He told her.

"Oh trust me, I  _really_ don't want to be on the receiving end of one of your punishments." Dang, she was on a  _roll._

"You know, I could make your life a living hell if you don't watch your mouth." He didn't threaten so much as outright state he would make his class unbearable for her.

"Hate to break it to you, but somebody already has." She said shortly, turning to leave.

But he said something that made her stop.

"What do you mean?"

She looked over her shoulder at him.  His head is cocked and he seemed...honest...

Since she knew a private detail about his life, she only figured it's fair he know a private detail about hers.

That didn't stop her from trying to wriggle out of it though.

"It's a long story." She warned him.

"I have time."

"I don't. Got class at eight." She really hoped he didn't know it was-

"My class, if I remember correctly. Besides, you rarely attend and I've been wanting to knock Aurou down a few notches. Your classmates will tear him to shreds." He motioned for her to follow him, and she did.

"Who's Aurou?" she asked.

"My new teaching assistant." Ymir was glad she had long legs, otherwise she'd never be able to keep up with him.  He sure moved fast for a little guy.

"A normal TA right? He doesn't have that whole Men in Black deal going on like Isabel and Farlan, right?"

"As normal a TA can be in this pissing school." He replied, and Ymir grinned.

She discovered her sour professor had a titanic sweet-tooth when they reach his office, and he pulled a giantass box of chocolate bars out of a desk drawer.

"They're imported from the finest chocolate makers in the world." He said. "Go on. Take one."

She can't read the foreign labels, but there are little pictures of the main ingredient on the front, so she picks one with a little jug of milk on it.  Mr. Rivaille took a hazelnut one and set the box on the desk.

"Have a seat." He told her, tearing the wrapper open. "Talk when you're ready."

Before she knew it, Ymir was pouring her life story out to a total stranger again, but she gave him more background information than she did Historia.  When Ymir was seven, her mother had taken in a friend, maybe hoping she could charge him for rent and at least pay for the water bill.

"But, now that I think about it...She was afraid of him. And I kinda got the feeling he forced her to let him stay with us.  I overheard him telling her that if she called the police, he'd slit my throat in front of her.  He stayed with us for about a month. Then one day he was gone."

A dark expression flitted across Mr. Rivaille's face.

"What was his name?" He asked, popping the last bit of chocolate in his mouth and reaching for another.

"Kenny? Kaney? I can't remember.  He wore this long coat and this stupid-"

"Bowler hat?"

She frowned.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" She asked.

"It's a long story." Is his reply.  "Go on."

But Ymir can't talk anymore. She doesn't even know why she's talking at all.

"What do _you_ care?" She asked acidly, crossing her arms.

"I care about injustices committed against the weak in this world." He replied quietly, crossing his own arms.  They stared at each other for a few seconds before Ymir looked away and scoffed.

"I don't like people I see on a daily basis knowing this shit." She muttered. "You're the second person I've told, but the only one who knows about creepy bowler hat guy.

"Well it's not like we can avoid each other considering you need my class's credit to graduate."

"If I graduate." Ymir mumbled.

"You  _will."_ The steel in his voice made her look up. His icy-blue eyes are filled with an intense determination, and his fist slammed into the corner of his desk. "Don't give up because of a few failures. You've spent your whole life sitting on your ass feeling sorry for yourself. I think it's high time you stood on your own two feet and tell the world to go fuck itself."

Ymir blinked at him.

"I see why Ms. Ral has a total lady-boner for you now." She said when she could speak.  That was the first time anyone had talked to her like that. The first time she believed she actually could succeed, if only for a moment. "You can get pretty passionate."

"So I've been told."

"Dude no. Don't even go there, I already spend an hour every night scrubbing my mind with brain bleach."

"I wasn't referring to my sex life you fucknut." He rolled his eyes. "You think you're the first person I've dragged out of the mud?" He reached for the thermos sitting by his computer and took a long swig.

"What, it's tea." He defended himself when he caught the funny look Ymir gave him.

"I never said it wasn't."

"But you assumed because every other teacher here is a functioning alcoholic." He pointed out.

"Functioning's quite a stretch, wouldn't you say?" She arched an  eyebrow.

"It is, isn't it?" He agreed, taking another drink.

"This fucking school." They sighed at the same time.

"So who's the other person?" Mr. Rivaille asked, putting the thermos back down. "You're more of a social hornet than a butterfly."

Ymir shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

"An online friend." She said vaguely.

"How did you meet? Facebook, Omegle, Tumblr?"

"Christianmingle.com." Ymir said under her breath.

His expression didn't change, but he made a "hm" noise.

"No offense, but you don't seem like a girl who's interested in religion. Or guys for that matter."

"I'm not, it was a stupid prank, and I think I ended up liking her more than I really should've." she blurted out. Mr. Rivaille raised an eyebrow.

"What's her name?" He asked.

Ymir hesitated.

"I'm sorry. That's too personal. When are you going to tell her you're a girl?"

""I was kinda hoping never."

Mr. Rivaille looked like he was about to say more, but at that moment, the door to his office was kicked open and banged against the wall, making the both of them jump.

"Yo boss, you're not gonna believe it, we got actual evidence of suspicious activity! Oh hey Ymir," Isabel said cheerfully. "How's it hanging?"

"Don't you know it's polite to knock?" Mr. Rivaille asked, sounding mildly irritated.

"Nah, I was raised in a barn by crossdressing wolves. Farlan, look, it's Ymir!"

"Good morning." He greeted her, placing a package on Mr. Rivaille's desk.

"Sup." Ymir replied, feeling  _very_ out of place all of a sudden.

Mr. Rivaille picked up the package, and turned it around in his hands.

"What's the story?" He asked.

"He gave that package to the postman who was _not_ the usual postman for his neighborhood.  So we waited until he went back inside, hijacked the mailtruck, stole the package, and the driver's tied up in our trunk as we speak!" Isabel explained cheerfully. 

"Good work you two." Mr. Rivaille said approvingly. "But you incompetent twats thought it would be a good idea for the both of you to leave your positions?"

"Isabel can't be trusted alone."

"Can too! Asshat. Besides, surveillance work is boring."

"Get over it." Mr. Rivaille said shortly. "Isabel, stop eyeing my chocolate like a pedophile at a preschool, you can have some once we're done with this job."

"Aw yiss." Isabel said. "You're the best bro. Boss. Bross."

"Get out before I taze you."

After they've left, Mr. Rivaille put the package down and massaged his temples with tiny circles.

"Be glad you're an only child, Ymir." He told her. "Siblings are indescribably..." He inhaled through his nose. "Irritating." He finished, exhaling through his mouth.

"They don't look like you." She said in confusion.

"They're adopted."

"Ah."

She looked down at her lap while Mr. Rivaille concentrated on ridding himself of a headache. The chocolate bar lay in her lap, unopened.

She didn't feel like eating it.

"I'd...better go." She stood, chocolate bar in hand to put in back.

"No, keep it." Mr. Rivaille told her. "And Ymir? What happened in this office stays in this office, alright?"

"You got it boss." She said, shooting one final glance at the package before she left.

***

Hallelujah her laptop is working again. That unexplained blackout sure was weird.

_Oh dear, you've discovered my secret!  Not that I tried very hard to hide it.  I was rather surprised you didn't notice right away._

_I don't want to give you the usual "So sorry about your life sucking" stuff.  I want to give you a really big hug.  Since I can't do that over the internet, I'll tell you a funny story!_

_One time, my dance instructor told me to show the class how to do a proper pirouette. Since I wanted to show off, I thought I'd end it with a little flair, and brought my leg up over my head, but I ended up kicking my instructor in the chin, which made her bite off the tip of her tongue.  That's not something Dad wants to brag about, and he chewed me out for embarrassing the family. But my instructor keeps joking that I should try karate instead of dance. Sadly, my mom said women shouldn't learn how to fight because men don't like it when their partner can kick their butt. I hope you're not like that._

_I have to ask though. If you love your mom so much, why don't you try to help her? It seems like the reasonable thing to do. It's what I would do if I was in your position._

_Historia_

_I've tried to help. Believe me. But she kept getting herself into shitty situations, and I kind of just gave up. Growing up, I always had to look out for myself and her, do the cooking, cleaning, hold her hair back while she puked, tuck her into bed.  The worst part came when she got addicted to this new drug when I was ten, and I threw out her stash. She shook my shoulders and screamed at me.  That's when I said I hated her for the first time.  She stopped, stared at me, let go, and spent the rest of the day locked in her room.  The next day, she took me out to Denny's and let me gorge myself on pancakes.  Things got better after that._

_But it's hard to forgive her, so I love her from a distance.  I think it's better that way, even though I worry about coming home and finding her dead from an overdose.  But...I'm sort of a coward, and home isn't really home when it was once the lion's den._

_Wow. Sorry for the word vomit._

_Ymir_

_Oh my gosh, that's terrible! That's it, tell me where you are, I am driving down there and buying you ice-cream.  No, wait, I'll bring you back to Trost, because there's this awesome cafe just down the block from my school. You can gorge yourself on shortcake and we can talk about badass ladies._

_Historia_

_Ahaha...I don't think that's a good idea._

_Ymir_

_Why not?_

_Historia_

_Because I don't want you to be disappointed with what you see when we meet._

_Ymir_

_I don't think I could be._

_Historia_

_Trust me. You would._

_Ymir_

_Ymir, I am used to getting what I want. And I want to see you whether you like it or not._

_Historia_

_You aren't going to give up, are you?_

_Ymir_

_Nope!_

_Historia_

_Ugh, fine. Tell me where this cafe is and I'll meet you there._

_Ymir_

_OMG do you live in Trost too?! Do you go to the University, because it would explain why I haven't seen you at St. Sina's._

_Historia_

_Yeah, I'm staying at the Uni. Do me a favor and don't show up there. Things could get awkward._

_Ymir_

_Awkward how?_

_Historia_

_I'm such a deadbeat that people would start thinking the same of you._

_Ymir_

_You know we really have to work on your self-confidence. Alright! The name of the cafe is Maria's, on Rose street. How about this Wednesday, at one?"_

_Historia_

_Can't. Got lecture. Is three ok?_

_Ymir_

_Ooh, no. That's when I practice. Is five good?_

_Historia_

_Five's good._

_Ymir_

_Then it's a date! See you then! :)_

_Historia_

_Don't call it a date. It's a meet-up. A get-together._

_Ymir_

_Aw, you're no fun._

_Historia_

_Fun was never a part of my vocabulary._

_Ymir_

_Shut up and study._

_Historia_

Finals is already dangling over her head like the sword of Damocles. And now she can practically feel the tip of the blade tickle her scalp because what has she gotten herself into.

"I fucked up." Ymir whispered, hiding her face in her hands. "I fucked up."

COUNTDOWN BEGINS. 45 HOURS UNTIL SHIT HITS THE FAN.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to have this up sooner but time just tumbled away


	8. The Plot Has Derailed And It's Heading Straight For You Oh God Run For Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir is tired of all the shenanigans going on in the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FILLER CHAPTER FILLER CHAPTER FILLER CHAPTER FILLER CHAPTER
> 
> you might think this is pointless stupidity but HA FOOL YOU IT ACTUALLY ESTABLISHES CHARACTER RELATIONSHIPS yeah it's pointless stupidity
> 
> all these scenes I wanted to put in the story, but couldn't figure out how so i just decided to shove them all into one chapter, try and contain the lameness as best i could

Tuesday morning started off with a Satanic ritual to cancel finals.

"Is that pentagram made of silly string." Ymir deadpanned after Connie explained what was going on.

"It's not silly if it's used for serious business." Sasha said seriously. Everyone sitting around the pentagram nodded in agreement.

That's right.  Everyone.

Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, and Jean were all sitting in the lotus position, holding the hands of the person next to them. Marco's cane was retracted, and lay across his lap.  The tension between Eren and Jean crackled in the atmosphere and Ymir was surprised the building is still standing.  Maybe Marco's calming aura was more potent than she originally thought.

"Ok, I understand why  _you_ guys are here." She pointed to Connie, Sasha, Eren and Jean. "But the rest of you are like, straight-A students, why do you want finals to be cancelled?"

"Don't put me in the same group as that buttmunch!" Eren growled, glaring at Jean.

"Yeah, Eren's such a failure, he needs to be put in a whole new category. Ow!"

Marco put his cane down, smiling placidly while Jean rubbed his head.  Meanwhile, Eren was massaging his fingers from the sudden death-grip Mikasa gave him.

"Children, behave." Armin scolded them.

"I'm not a child, he's the child!"

"Oh please, I'm not the one who-Ow! Marco, knock it off!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna...go to class now..." Ymir said, slowly backing away from the scene.

" _Nooooooo."_ Sasha wailed in an eerie voice. " _Jooooooin us, Ymir. Joooooooooooin uuuuuuuusssssssss."_

"You guys need serious help."

***

Ymir didn't actually have class, but she  _did_ need to help Mx. Hanji in cleaning the Chemistry lab after someone spilled hydrochloric acid over themselves and had to use the safety shower and the room was soaked.

"Mx. Hanji isn't here right now." Moblit said when she entered. "And the Chemistry lab is closed until further notice."

"Actually, I came here to help." Ymir told him.

"Really? Oh thank god." Relief blossomed over his face. "There's another mop by the door. You can start on that side of the room."

They spent fifteen minutes mopping in silence, then Mx. Hanji strode in.

"Sorry I'm late." The statement was acompanied by a toothy grin. "I had to pry Mr. Hannes off a tree. He was getting pretty intimate with it.   So I told him to _leaf_ and take the rest of the day off."

Moblit groaned. Ymir tried her best to focus on mopping, but the words came bubbling up before she could stop them.

"Maybe he was  _branching_ out." She suggested. "You shouldn't have gone out on a  _limb_ like that."

" I figured I'd  _stick_ with the safest option." Hanji said, grin growing wider.

"I think he's harmless. His  _bark_ is worse than his bite."

"Still, I'm  _stumped_ by his behavior."

A clatter caused them to look over at Moblit, who had dropped the broom and thrown his hands up in the air.

"Gee Moblit, maybe you should pack a  _trunk_ and go on vacation." Hanji said, sounding very concerned.

"I would love nothing more." He grumbled, picking up the mop and resuming his job.

"Ayyyyyyyy!" Mx. Hanji said. "You're getting the hang of it!"

"Oh my god." Moblit muttered when he realized his unintentional contribution. "I'd rather be taking care of those damn spiders than doing this."

"Sorry Mo, looks like you're caught in my web!"

"Can you not call me that."

"Yeah Mx. Hanji, don't be giving him any mo'problems."

"Hah!"

Between the three of them, they managed to get the lab cleaned up in no time flat.  Mx. Hanji signed a piece of paper confirming Ymir had helped so she could get her pay.

"Ymir, next week Moblit has a dentist's appointment to get a cavity filled, and I need someone to pick up my new babies from the pet store. You free?"

"Sure." Ymir replied easily. "What time?  _Two-thirty?"_

"It never stops." Moblit whispered, slumping over a table and banging his forehead on the surface. "It never. Stops."

***

Next on Ymir's schedule was helping Ms. Ral organize her supply cabinets, since the art teacher couldn't be near paints unsupervised. What made Ymir qualified to supervise her is beyond anyone's guess.

"Why did you drop my class, Ymir?" Ms. Ral asked, handing her bottles of acrylic paint to be lined up by color. "Your work was beautiful."

"Ms. Ral, I drew scenes of torture and execution in graphic detail."

"Exactly! You have such an eye for the little things, and your skill at drawing human anatomy is incredible! I still have your drawing of the ritualistic disembowelment victim hanging up in my office."

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered, or..."

Ms. Ral put her hands on her hips.

"Ymir, I'd rather look at gruesome death scenes than those goddamn anime drawing those fucking weeaboos keep giving me."

"I'm still not sure if I should be flattered."

"You should be! Your anatomy is realistic whereas I'm dealing with big-breasted bimbos with tiny waists and eyes the size of dinner plates. Or if it's not that, it's the fucking yaoi hands! Don't even get me started on the chibis!"

"Ms. Ral, I think you should leave the art room until you calm down."

***

"Why is there a baby goat in the living room. How did you even get a baby goat, the nearest farm is thirty-nine miles away."

"Mutilating barbie dolls did nothing. Finals are still on."

"So you're going to sacrifice a  _baby goat in the living room?!"_

"Psh, no. We're going to cover it in ketchup and hope Satan mistakes it for blood."

"I need an adult."

"You are an adult."

"I need a better adult."

"Why the long face Jean, you've finally got a kid you can touch without being charged."

"Shut the  _fuck_ up Eren  _Marco seriously stop that hurts!"_

***

"Afternoon Ymir." Mr. Smith greeted her when she entered his office. He was wearing a turtleneck, which was unusual, considering the warm weather. "What 's with the baby goat?"

"It's a long story." She sighed. "I came here to get my money." She placed the baby goat on the floor, where it started chewing on the rug, and handed Mr. Smith the slip of paper with Mx. Hanji's and Ms. Ral's signatures.

""Of course." Mr. Smith pulled out his wallet, removed a few bills and handed them to her. "There you go."

"Much obliged. By the way, um...You wouldn't happen to know where I can hide a baby goat so Sasha and Connie can't find it?"

"I'll keep it in my office if you return this to Mr. Rivaille." He said, holding out a black tie.

Well. That explained the turtleneck.

"Oh god, really?"

"It's this or the goat Ymir, take your pick."

***

"It really is a nice tie sir."

"Thank you. It was a gift."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'll see myself out.
> 
> wonderful fanart!!!: http://lailania.tumblr.com/search/submission
> 
> one of these days i'll learn how to hyperlink. today is not that day.


	9. The Plot Gets Back On Track. The City Is Saved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir is embarrassed, creeped out, psychoanalyzed (kind of) by Sasha, goes on her date and...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ????????????????

Doomsday had arrived.

Ymir developed Restless Leg Syndrome and her right leg bounced erratically throughout all of her classes.  

"You. Young lady. Are you sure you're in my class?" Mr. Schultz squinted at her.

"Yes sir. Says right here on my schedule." She showed him.

"Well. It's certainly nice to see you attending. Perhaps you could tell us how to solve this equation."

"Uh...The limit does not exist?"

The one person paying attention snickered. Everyone else was either asleep or texting.  Ymir slid down in her seat, wondering if Mr. Schultz had attended the Mr. Rivaille school of Death Glaring.

Her next class was no better.

"You smell of frustration and despair." Mr. Zacharius informed her when she walked in.

"Nah, that's just my shampoo." She said, leaning away from him.  Mr. Zacharius sniffed again.

"With a hint of freesia." He declared.

"Please stop."

She'd report him for harassment, but with the vicious budget cuts, he was replacing the police's drug-sniffing dogs.  It was cheaper because he bought his doggie treats with his own money. And he never humped anyone's leg.

That she knew of.

The closer five o clock came, the more nervous Ymir grew. Butterflies were way too gentle to describe the feeling in her stomach.  Should she just not show up? Never talk to Historia again? No, that was a douchebag move and Historia might come to the Uni looking for her and what Ymir wanted to prevent would happen anyway.  But she couldn't show up looking like a girl...

"Hey Ymir." Sasha said, stopping her in the hallway. "You're looking more socially awkward than usual. Something got your goat? Or someone? I hear there's a goat thief on campus."

"Oh shut up, I was doing you a favor.  Erd might be relaxed when it comes to what goes on in our dorm-"

"Yeah, cause he's stoned all the time."

"What?"

"It's the goatee. And the long hair. Dude's definitely on something."

"You're perpetuating stereotypes and that is wrong."

"Psych says we have stereotypes for a reason." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Most stereotypes turn out to be true anyway."

"I..." Ymir shook her head. "Whatever. Even if he was a stoner, he'd still draw the line at animal sacrifice."

"We were _pretending."_

"Possession with intent to sacrifice be it real or imaginary. Did you not notice the thing shat on our carpet?"

" _Your_ carpet."

"Oh my god." Ymir slapped a hand over her eyes.

"There, see? You're feeling better already! Now come into my arms child, tell momma Sasha what's wrong."

"Not out here." Ymir hissed, looking around.

"Room 291 is empty this period."

"Ew no, there was a threesome in there last week."

"And you know this how?"

"I'm the one who sent them there."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Oh-kay then!"

Ymir is not surprised that they end up in her room and that Sasha demolishes the rest of the pizza while Ymir told her about the stupid thing she did.

"That's horrible!" Sasha gasped. "You're a horrible person!" But she's grinning widely as she says it. "Lod Reiss's  _daughter?_ Oh. Oh Ymir, you have to go.  Seduce her like the boss-ass bitch you are. Lead her to the dark side. We have vibrators."

Sasha let out a squeal and clapped her hands, bouncing on the mattress.

"Pretend to be a guy, make her fall in love with you, then whip off your clothes and show her otherwise!  In private of course. Unless you're into exhibitionism. I don't know you that well."

Ymir drew her knees up to her chest.

"I don't think I'd make a convincing guy."

"Ymir, me and Connie were betting on which bathroom you'd use freshman year. Did you seriously not notice us following you around?"

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. You need serious help."

"Wait. Wait a minute." Sasha leaned forward until their noses touched. Her breath smelled like pizza.

"Are you falling for Historia?" She demanded seriously.

"What? No!" Ymir scooted away from Sasha.

"You're in denial." She accused, scooting forward.

"No I'm not!"

"You're denying your denial let's go deeper." Sasha scooted forward. Ymir scooted her butt into empty air and fell off the bed in a sprawl of limbs.

"Oh my god, are you ok?" Sasha peered at her over the edge of the mattress.

"Rosebud..." Ymir groaned.

Sasha slapped her.

***

Connie gets involved. The two of them form a plan. It is the dumbest thing Ymir has ever hear and tells them.  A dozen times.  But they didn't listen.  They left at four-thirty.  Ymir left at 4:45. She arrived at Maria's three minutes after five wearing her baggiest sweatshirt (not that she has anything to hide) over a tank top, jeans, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, tucked under a baseball cap for the Tennessee Titans.

She spotted Connie and Sasha immediately. The morons sat in the farthest corner, reading newspapers and wearing trenchcoats, fedoras and sunglasses.

Outside the cafe, it begins to rain.

She saw Historia next and her heart beat faster.  The other girl wore a lng white skirt and a sky-blue blouse, and was reading a book.. Ymir slowly walked forward, feeling like she was in a dream. No matter how many steps she took, Historia was beyond reaching.

But then Ymir bumped into a chair and tripped. After she apologized to the sitter, she continued walking only to run into a waiter.

"Sorry, sorry." Ymir mumbled, heat coloring her face. Historia had looked up at some point and probably saw the whole thing.

"You have a dancer's body." She commented, closing her book as Ymir more or less stumbled int the chair across her. "But not a dancer's movements."

"Hey, I can do the hokey-pokey." She defended herself. Oh god why was she allowed to speak?

"You know what I meant." Historia pushed the menu towards Ymir with her fingertips. Her nails were the color of a smashed robin's egg Ymir had found once. The shell. Not the yolk.

"I thought your voice would be deeper." She remarked while Ymir looked over the selection of cakes, teas, biscuits and cookies the cafe offered. There is nothing manly on here.

"Yeah, well, I thought you'd be taller. Guess we're both disappointed." She should really invest in some sort of brain to mouth filter because this is getting ridiculous.

"Oh no, I'm not disappointed!" Historia was quick to say. "I'm just making an observation."

Ymir hoped Historia wouldn't make an observation concerning her lack of an Adam's apple. She kept her head bowed, just in case.

"You know, you're even cuter in person."

"Hey now, let's keep this platonic."

Historia giggled. " Okay. Whatever you want."

Ymir wants many things. A chance with Historia is one of them. She also wants an orgy with Megan Fox, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson.

She hoped that orgy came soon because she was pretty sure her right hand was about to file a restraining order.

Their waiter came up to them and oh fuck it's the same one she bumped into s she apologized to him again and he laughed it off.

"So what can I get you two?" He asked, pen poised above his notepad.

"Ymir, you go first, I can't decide."

Shit.

"What do you recommend?" She asked him.

"Definitely the vanilla pistachio fig tart." He replied. Damn. She hates pistachios.

"I'm allergic to nuts." Ymir told him, amazed by her ability to keep a straight face. Keeping things straight was  _not_ her forte.

"I'm not too fond of nuts either." Historia said, and Ymir's shoulders lurched forward as she bit her lip to contain her giggles.  She was an actual twelve year old for finding this funny.

"Well that's a shame." The waiter sighed.  "I try to eat nuts everyday, considering their health benefits."

Is this seriously happening.

How is this even real.

Somehow, Ymir managed to keep herself composed. She ordered blueberry cheesecake with Earl Grey. Historia ordered tira misu with Darjeeling.

"Ymir, are you going to stare at the table this whole time? I'd like to see your eyes when I talk to you."

Ymir mumbled an apology and lifted her head. Something fast and hot raced through her body when she caught sight of Historia's Breaking Bad crystal meth eyes.  Mikasa had been pretty in a subtle way, like a sliver of moon shining through wispy clouds.  Historia was the sunrise, sunset and everything in between.

Ymir swallowed nervously.  She had fucked up beyond all repair.  Historia said something.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." She said, eyes darting down to the tabletop again.

"I asked if it was alright to give you a hug." Historia repeated.

It is a horrible idea. Ymir should refuse.

"Sure." She said. Historia smiled, got up, and walked around the table. Her arms go around Ymir's shoulders and their cheeks press together.  Her hair smelled citrus-y.  And her chest was pressing against Ymir's arm.

Yup. it was a horrible idea to let Historia touch her.

"You're not alone anymore, alright?" She said, pulling back. Ymir made the mistake of looking at her. There's a beautific smile on her kind face. "You have me now. We're friends, kay?"

Ymir was so going to hell for this. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?

"Yeah." Ymir said hoarsely as Historia sat back down. "Friends." She might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Their drinks come in delicate-looking tea cups. Ymir gulped hers down, barely noticing how scalding it was. She might as well get used t the heat while she can.  Historia raised hers to her lips, pinky extened, and blew gently before sipping.

"So are all the rumours about the University true?  That there's only one teacher in the science department?"

"Yup." Ymir confirmed. "That'd be Mx. Hanji." 

She expected Historia to ask about the gender-neutral pronoun, but the other girl remained quiet.

"Wow. I knew budget cuts were bad, but I never thought they were  _that_ bad."

"That's not the worst of it." Ymir told Historia about Mr. Zacharius's incredible nose that was replacing the police-dogs.

"Oh my gosh." Historia laughed. "He actually eats dog biscuits?"

"He says they're a good source of fiber." Ymir shrugged.

"I think I'll stick to my whole grains thank you very much."

The conversation is interrupted by the arrival of their food. Ymir is halfway through her cheesecake before she noticed Historia taking small, ladylike bites. She slowed down.

"Would you like to try some?" Historia asked, cutting off a small piece and extended her fork towards Ymir.

"What is it?"

"Ladyfingers, that's a type of biscuit, dipped in expresso and layered with whipped egg whites and marscopone cheese." She explained. "It's Italian."

"Uh, sure."

Historia scraped her fork on the edge of Ymir's plate and Ymir scooped it up in her own, and brought it to her mouth. It's delicious.

"Viva Italia." She said after swallowing. Historia smiled.

"D'you want some of..." Ymir looked down at her plate and amended her statement. "Do you want the rest of this?" because there's only one bite left. Historia nodded, and Ymir held her fork out, intending to deposit it on Historia's plate, but the other girl intercepted it and ate it right off the fork.

Fuck. Ymir's heart skipped a beat.

"Oh my." She said, sitting back. "That's delicious. I've never had their cheesecake before. Biggest mistake of my life." She flashed Ymir a grin.

Ymir wished it was something that simple for her.

She felt kinda bad about letting Historia pay, but she  _is_ the one who offered. Ymir will do it next time. _  
_

She caught herself. There will be no next time because she seriously can't do this.

"Looks like the rain's letting up." Historia noted. "Want to go for a walk in the park?"

Ymir wanted to run away and hide under her bed.

"Sure."

"Great!" Historia pushed her chair away from the table and stretched her arms over her head.  Because Ymir is a pervrt, her eyes are drawn to the strip of abdomen revealed as the hem of Historia's blouse rides up. That's when she sees it. Something she has admired many times in a post-orgasmic haze.

A tatto of a crown on Historia's right hip.

"Oh my god!" Ymir shouted, standing up so swiftly her chair clattered to the ground. "You're Krista Lenz!"

Historia froze. Her eyes opened wide.

"Oh shit." She whispered faintly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am currently three and a half chapters ahead. things are happening. subplots mentioned in passing come to light. marco gets fed up with jean and eren's shit. Historia breakdances. it is v. good.


	10. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations are given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever just
> 
> look back at previous writing and think
> 
> "why"
> 
> this is why i never want to do anymore hiatuses, I just want to keep thinking i can actually write
> 
> well, write as in create stories and plots and shit i mean obviously i can write
> 
> shut up lanii

"Think we should follow them?" Connie said to Sasha as they watched the lanky brunette get towed out of the cafe by the petite blonde.

"I think this is something they need to figure out on their own." Sasha replied.

"If you're not going to order anything, then I need to ask you to leave." Their waitress said, hands on hips.

"Actually, we will be." Connie said, opening his menu.

"Connie, we didn't bring any money." Sasha reminded him through clenched teeth.

"Just send the bill to Mr. Erwin Smith at University of Trost." Connie told the waitress. "And tell him thanks, from the cheer squad."

"The University doesn't have a cheer squad." Their waitress said in confusion.

"It's private one." Sasha informed her.

***

Krista/Historia had a death grip on Ymir's wrist and moved with surprising swiftness for someone so short.  Ymir was dragged to the park next door, and shoved on a bench seat beaded with droplets of moisture that soak through her jeans.  Krista/Historia dug her nails into Ymir's shoulder and the force of her glare is so intense it put Mr. Rivaille's to shame.

"Alright, listen up motherfucker." She hissed, and holy hit Ymir is most definitely  _not_ turned on by that at all. Not the slightest.

Okay maybe just a little The small corner of her mind not trembling in fear or arousal marvelled at the girl's transformation from angel to devil.  Ymir can practically feel the flames of Hell licking at her skin.

"If you tell  _anyone_."

But Ymir stopped her there.

"Woah, woah, woah." She said, putting her hands up. "You think you're the only one with secrets here? Look."  She wiggled out of her sweatshirt, took off her cap and freed her hair from it's ponytail, letting it drape over her shoulders. Cupped what little breasts she had in her hands and shoved them up.

"Hello Krista-slash-Historia. My name is Ymir. These are my tits. I may look like a dude. But biologically, I am female."

If it wasn't for the sound of their breathing, Ymir would've sworn time had stopped.  The anger slowly vanished from Historia's face, and was replaced with...relief? And then she's laughing so hard she knelt on the ground and rested her head on Ymir's knee.

"There's no escape." She repeated over and over. "I just can't...do it..."

Out of  the two of them, Ymir isn't sure who's more confused.  She also isn't sure how to react to Historia's reaction, so she settled for staring in astonishment as Historia laughed her fuckin ass off, the tears from her aquamarine eyes falling and melting into the fabric of Ymir's jeans.

***

When Historia calmed down, she explained.

"I was always more interested in girls." She said.  They're sitting side by side on the bench, Historia brushing the grit off her skirt.  "They're just...prettier than boys, y'know?  Boys are dirty, smelly, loud." She wrinkled her nose. "They play mean tricks too, and people have the nerve to say that's a sign of affection.  So I just didn't pay attention to them.  I didn't think there was anything  _bad_ about it."

But her mother had read Historia's diary when she was fourteen.

"I was dating this girl, Mina, and I gushed over how perfect and beautiful she was like, every other line.  I wrote about the first time we held hands, the first time we kissed, how we slept in the same bed during sleepovers in our underwear. We didn't do anything  _sexual_ , we were just kids experimenting.  Mom told Dad. Dad blew up.  He wouldn't let me leave the house for six months, and he hired a tutor to help me with my lessons. On top of that, he made me pray for forgiveness an hour after waking up and an hour before going to sleep."  Though it clearly wasn't a fond memory for her, Historia had a small smile.  "Usually I just thought about Mina.  But when I went back to school, she was gone.  Her dad worked for mine, see, and I guess he fired him.  They moved to this tiny town up north, Stohess, and I haven't heard from her since."

"Doesn't explain the porn thing." Ymir said.

"Oh, that. I started doing it when I was eighteen, sort of a 'fuck you' to my parents.  Also a fun way to earn money.  What's your username?"

Ymir tells her, and Historia burst out laughing again.

"Of course. Of course you'd be dancing_queer. You're like, the nicest out of everyone who watches. Thanks for all the money."

"You're welcome, I think."

"I never showed my face because even though my parents are giant asshats, I still kind of respect them a little bit, and Daddy's career is the most important thing in his life. But I never would've guessed he'd be right in saying I'd regret getting this tattoo."

"Do you really?"

"Nah. It's a choice with no regrets."

It's Ymir's turn for explanations.  She told Historia about the shitty prank idea and how she felt like crap when she ended up kind of crushing on her, thinking she was this innocent christian girl.

"And why would a girl like you even _be_ on ChristianMingle?" Ymir asked. Historia sighed, and rested her head on Ymir's shoulder.

Ymir hoped her deodorant hasn't faded yet.

"My mom was convinced that if I found the right guy, I'd give up this whole homosexuality idea.  Something about God leading me back to salvation."

Ymir snorted and put an arm around Historia's shoulder.

"So much for that."

"Heterosexuality is just not an option. Can't do it. No escaping the call of the pussy." She agreed, and it's Ymir's turn to laugh.  They sit in silence, but it's a comfortable silence.

"This is nice." Historia mentioned.

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Their free hands find each other and twine together.  Somewhere, a cardinal is singing.  The air smelled of wet earth.  Their breathing is in sync.

_It's all so natural._ Ymir thought, resting her head atop Historia's.  _A bit unusual.  But I can deal with this._

"Ymir...Historia began. "This might be moving a bit too fast, but...do you think we could be more than just friends?"

"Yeah." Ymir said.  "Yeah, I think we could."

"I'm glad." Historia said.

"Me too." Ymir replied.  For the first time in a long time, she doesn't feel weighed down by her life.  Maybe...things will get better for her. For the both of them.  And if things didn't or if they got worse, well, at least they'd have each other.

***

"And never come back!" The owner of Maria's yelled, pushing the both of them out and slamming the door.

"Sheesh." Sasha griped, standing up, dusting off her pants and helping Connie up.  "You'd think he'd be glad about selling out of everything."

"Well there  _were_ other customers." Connie reminded her as they straightened their disguises and began walking back to Uni.

"How d'ya think the rest of Ymir's date went?" Sasha wondered, hands behind her head.

"I think it went pretty well." Connie said as they passed the park. He pointed to a couple sitting on a bench. The pair was facing away from them, but the taller, dark-haired one had her arms around the tiny blonde's shoulders.

"We da best." Sasha said, linking her arm through his.

"We da best." He agreed, and they swaggered off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti in the air*
> 
> if u think it's gon end here i got some words 4 chu
> 
> well, just one.
> 
> subplotsssssssssss.
> 
> besides this fic is like 12% lesbians and lez be honest that is nowhere near enough lesbians


	11. Of Parties, Panties, and Pizza Parlors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir is uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> animal house probably inspired a lot more of this than it really should have
> 
> also i seriously hate every slang term for vagina so enjoy your awkwardly non-descriptive sex scene

Despite the student's best efforts, Finals came faster than a pubescent boy in possession of his father's Playboy magazines.  Ymir found she studied a lot better with Historia as her personal cheerleader.

Not like how Mr. Rivaille was Mr. Smith's personal cheerleader.

Although Historia  _did_ imply that if Ymir studied hard enough, she'd do the splits.

It was quite the incentive.  Once she found them, Ymir hit the books.

By the time that hellish week was over, Ymir's brain was too numb to do anything but pass out in her bed, wishing for dreams of Historia, but getting dreams of failed tests instead.

She awoke to the sound of pounding music at 11:30 at night,  Leaving her room, rubbing her eyes and smacking her lips,she discovered a mass of dancing bodies in the living room accompanied by the smell of cheap alcohol.

There is a party. In her dorm.  And she wasn't invited.

This is bullshit.

"This is bullshit!" She yelled at Sasha over the music. "You throw a party in my dorm and don't even  _tell_ me?!"

"We thought you were with Historia! Y'know, relievin' some stress?" She nudged Ymir with her elbow and winked. Ymir squinted at her.

"How long has this been going on?" She asked surveying the crowd. Some of the people she sees don't even go to the Uni.

"Since six-thirty!" Sasha replied cheerfully. "Grab a beer, start dancin', relax! Finals are over!"  She handed Ymir her beer can.  Ymir drained it in one go and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.  She joined Marco, who was sitting on the couch bobbing his head and tapping his cane to the beat.

Ymir doesn't dance.  She has epileptic seizures that end in casualties. 

She doesn't want to be here, but she doesn't want to leave either.  

It's a dilemma she's quite familiar with.

So she people-watched.  Annie was sitting on a chair, Mikasa perched in her lap, and the two girls were getting heavily involved with each other. Dang, that Leonhardt chick got more ass than a Jamaican dance hall.

She gave Connie first place in Shit-Facedness when he leapt up on the couch between her and Marco wearing a Burger King Crown.

"I am Sofa King Connie!" He yelled. "Bow before me bitches!"

"You should change your name to Stupid, so we all have an excuse to call you Sofa King Stupid." Ymir muttered.

"Haha, yeah!" He bounced on the cushions a few times, then jumped off, yelling for Sasha to be his Sofa Queen.

But Connie's drunkeness had nothing on Jean and Eren, Ymir quickly saw.  At some point, the two had been engaged in a drinking contest that swiftly degenerated into a fistfight, or what passed for a fistfight when both participants are plastered.

Ymir watched with mild interest as they flailed at each other.  Eren grabbed the front of Jean's shirt and slammed his head forward.  Then she, along with everyone else, let out a collective gasp.

"What's going on?" Marco asked, leaning forward.

"I don't believe it..." Ymir said, mostly to herself.

"What? What?"

"They're making out!" she announced in a stunned voice.

Marco squinted as if that would help him see better. "Really?"

"Yeah...They're getting pretty into it." Ymir said as Eren's tongue slipped into Jean's mouth as Jean's hand slipped into Eren's pants.

"How's everyone reacting?" He asked with a frown.

"How do you think?" Ymir replied, wincing at the loud moan Eren gave when Jean twisted his hands in the collar of Eren's shirt, turned around and slammed him into the nearest wall.  Jean hiked one of Eren's legs up and began rolling his hips, an action Eren eagerly mirrored. "Surprised doesn't even begin to describe it."

An odd expression came over Marco's face, but Ymir didn't see it because she was too busy taking notes on their kissing technique.

"Are you kidding me?!" Marco shouted, suddenly standing up. "The blind guy is the only one who saw this coming?! I'm done. I'm leaving."

And he stormed out, whacking people in his way with his cane as he went.

Given how stinkin' drunk the amorous pair were, it was highly unlikely they would remember their moment of passion come morning.  But Uni students are always willing to lend a hand, and in this situation, it came in the form of filming the whole thing on their phones.

Even Mikasa and Armin.

 _Especially_  Mikasa and Armin.

***

Historia kept her promise, which was surprising given that her father was a politician.

Currently, she lay naked on Ymir's bed touching herself, hips pushing up into one hand while the other massaged her breasts, index finger circling around the tip.  She turned her head to the side, looked directly at Ymir and said her name.

Jesus fucking christ.

"Ymir..." Historia said again.  "Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

Ymir's arms remained crossed over her chest as she sits back in the chair.  She isn't joining Historia. And she doesn't know why.

That's a lie though.  She's too shy.  She would look ridiculous.  She didn't know how to move her body sensuously like Historia could, and she was pretty sure her O-face looked like she was being brutally murdered.  And compared to Historia's petite, yet deliciously curvy figure, Ymir had the sexual appeal of a beanpole.

Historia didn't share her beliefs though.  She rolled off the bed, and straddled Ymir's lap.

"What's wrong?" She asked, moving her hips in slow circles.  "You look like an alarmed deer."

"Oh that's sexy." Ymir grumbled, tearing her eyes from Historia's chest.

"Are you afraid of looking stupid?"

"Yeah..."

"I thought you'd be used to that by now." Historia teased.

"I don't wanna look stupid in front of you."

Historia smiled, and tucked a strand of Ymir's hair back.

"I won't be able to see anything with my face buried between your legs." She whispered.

Ymir tensed. Historia leaned back, a concerned expression on her face.

"Is that okay?" She asked worriedly. Ymir let out a breath she didn't recall holding.

"Do what you want." She said, trying and failing to sound flippant.

"Alright, listen here missy." Historia said sternly. "I don't want to do anything without your explicit consent.  It's fine if you just want to watch for now.  I do put on a good show." She winked.

Ymir would be lying if she said she wasn't horny as fuck.  But she had been isolated from people for so long, she wasn't sure how to react to having a living, breathing person sitting on her and offering her sex.  She wanted it, but what if she messed up?

"Let's do this." Ymir said, hoping she would feel as confident as she sounded. The blonde smiled.

"Follow my lead." Historia whispered, and gently pried Ymir's arms apart from each other. She lead one to her chin, and slowly dragged it down her body.  Ymir swallowed nervously as she pushed inside Historia's folds.  The other girl was slick and hot and Ymir had an idea of what might feel good, so she gave an experimental swipe over Historia's clit and was rewarded with a soft moan. Encouraged by the response, she rubbed her fingers up and down, following the motions of Historia's hips.

Her breath caught in her throat when Historia tugged at the hem of her shirt.  She allowed it to be pulled off her, and then Historia was unhooking her bra, placing her warm hands over Ymir's chest. Historia smiled and lowered her head to Ymir's. They kissed, and Historia's tongue pried her lips open, one hand tangling in Ymir's hair. 

Feeling particularily bold, Ymir slipped her hand forward and tentatively breached Historia with her index finger.

"Good!" She praised against Ymir's lips.  "Now, thrust them in and out."

"I know  _that_." Ymir said, irritated.  She added her middle finger and pushed them up into Historia, who gave a delighted noise.

"Ah, that's great. Now do this." She raised a hand and made a "come-hither" motion, which Ymir repeated, and was rewarded with a moan.  Historia leaned back, placed one hand on Ymir's shoulder, and snaked the other hand down to rub at her clit, something Ymir couldn't do in the her current position.

Historia comes quicker than expected, with a quiet whimper into Ymir's mouth and every one of Ymir's senses is overrun by her.  The smell of her perfume, the feel of her light, but solid body, the taste of her lips and the sight of the pink blush on her cheeks, hearing her breathing slow.

There's a weird feeling being poured into her mind as she holds the smaller girl protectively, dripping down the inside of her body and collecting her heart, but she doesn't want to think about what it means right now, so she settled for tracing her fingers in soothing circles over Historia's back.

"You need more practice." Historia said as they sat there. "But we'll make a nymphomaniac out of you yet."

"I have no idea what that is."

Historia gave an airy chuckle and hopped off Ymir's lap, hands on her hips.

"Take off your pants."

"Why."

"Because I'm going to return the favor, duh."

Ymir is cool with that. She is more than cool with that.  The jeans come off, all earlier embarrassment gone. Historia raised an eyebrow.

"Are those penises on your panties?"

"Don't ask." Ymir said with a blush.  Of all the ones to wear the day things heated up.

It took a few seconds for Historia to stop laughing, but she's back to seriousness soon after, and tugged off the panties with slender fingers.  Thenshe's on her knees, bowing her head to the junction of Ymir's thighs and Ymir whispered,

"Bon appetit."

"Oh my god." Historia snorted, resting her forehead on the seat.  "You're ridiculous."

"You like it."

"Yes. Yes I do."  And suddenly Historia's mouth is on her and Ymir bit her fist in a vain attempt to muffle the horribly embarrassing noise that escaped her mouth. It's a hundred times better than her fantasies, and Ymir is positive she'll never be able to get off again after the goddamn wonder that is Historia's Reiss's tongue.  The chair squeaked and creaked as Ymir moved in it, undulating her hips, hesitantly gripping golden locks.  She doesn't know whether to spread her legs wide or clench them tight and before she can make a decision, she's coming and it's the most intense orgasm she has ever had in her sad pathetic life.

"Holy shit." She breathed. Historia wiped her mouth on her hand daintily.

"Just wait until I introduce you to vibrators."

An ember of anticipation burned in Ymir's gut.

***

They tried to see each other as often as possible without arousing suspicion.  They have to avoid Maria's since Ymir is known as a boy there, but downtown Trost has some pretty good pizza places.  At first, it's just the two of them, but one day, Sasha and Connie joined them.  The next week, Mikasa and Armin and Marco.  The week after that, still vehemently denying they were attracted to each other but still holding hands under the table like the dorks they were, Eren and Jean.  Their get-togethers aren't civilized by any means of the word, and it only grew worse when Armin introduced them to Cards Against Humanity.  Marco was not left out, because Armin had somehow gotten every card a Braille translation underneath the text.

Today's game starts off with "I remember when ___was just getting started."

Ymir played "The homosexual agenda" and won. 

"Election results are announced today, right?" Sasha asked. Historia nodded.

"Dad's really tense. I'm glad I was able to get out of the house."

The next black card was "Everyone down on the ground! We're just here for___"

Eren wins with "My collection of high tech sex toys."

"I hope he doesn't win." Marco said, reading the braille of his cards.  "He sounds nice, but it's the type of niceness that's hiding a total jerk."

"At least you don't have to live with him." Historia sighed.   She's the Card Czar, and the black card is "When I pooped, what came out of my butt?"

She picked "The biggest, blackest dick."  Armin let out a celebratory cheer.

"Oh, look, look!" Connie exclaimed, pointing to the television mounted on the wall. "The results are being announced!"

They all turned to look, the air humming with tension.  Within seconds, they have their answer.

Lod Reiss has won.  

The state is going to Hell.

Historia put her cards down, and stood. She walked out of the restaurant.  Ymir looked down at her cards, realized everyone was watching her expectantly, then stood and hurried after Historia.

She's sitting on the curb just outside, knees tucked to her chest, face resting on her arms.  Ymir sat next to her, and drew her into a hug.

"I won't be able to see you as often." Historia mumbled into the fabric of Ymir's sweatshirt.  "Dad's gonna have me on a tight leash."

"No worries." Ymir consoled her.  "You'll still have internet access right? And don't you have a dance recital next week? I'll be there. I promise."

Historia sniffed. 

"Okay." She whispered. Ymir kissed her head.

They are forced to go their separate ways, for now. 

But, rebellious little shit that she is, Historia won't be able to stay away for long.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made marco blind just so he could say that "saw it coming" line
> 
> also, the ending to this chapter was radically different until Neomechanist's comment reminded me, oh yeah elections is a thing i was doing (thank you for reminding me of my own subplots)
> 
> it just makes everything better though just you wait
> 
> I STILL FEEL LIKE THERE'S NOT ENOUGH YUMIKURI THO *flips a table* *mother yells* *cautiously uprights table and slinks away*


	12. You Can Dance If You Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly have no excuse for the long absence other than "school got out may 30th and any productive activity made me groan and nap for eight hours."
> 
> please forgive me the lure of summer apathy was too strong for me to resist 
> 
> they've moved their communication to skype btw i don't know why i didn't make them do it earlier lame usernames aw yes. historia's is a james bond reference btw im for serious there's a character literally named pussy galore look it up
> 
> and like that i've gotten over my weird thing about vagina slang sometimes i get really weird about things and it'll vanish like a month later does that happen for anyone else

_yqueer: hey_

_yqueer: saw you on tv yesterday_

_yqueer: you looked surprisingly cheerful_

_pussygalore: i was thinking of you_

_yqueer: clothed or naked?_

_pussygalore: yes_

_yqueer: pfffff_

_yqueer: when can we see each other again?_

_pussygalore: i don't know_

_pussygalore: dad's picking my friends for me_

_pussygalore: i can't be seen hanging around anyone outside that group_

_pussygalore: and mom's setting me up with the son of a friend_

_yqueer: introduce him to anal sex_

_pussygalore: omfg_

_yqueer: once you do the back you can never go back_

_pussygalore: you have the rhyming skills of a wannabe rapper_

_yqueer: why you gotta be like that_

_pussygalore: around my family and in public it takes every ounce of willpower to maintain the good clean wholesome image_

_pussygalore: you're the only outlet for my inner bitch_

_yqueer: wow love you too babe_

_pussygalore: but_

_pussygalore: to make up for it_

_pussygalore: i made sure you got a front row ticket to the performance_

_yqueer: really???_

_pussygalore: yep!!!_

_yqueer: omg_

_yqueer:  i wish i could bring you a bouquet of roses or something_

_pussygalore: you have already given me the flower of your virginity_

_pussygalore: i need nothing more_

_yqueer: really_

_pussygalore: yep_

 

***

 

The first snow of the year fell in big puffy flakes that Ymir caught on her tongue as she walked to the bus stop.  Her breath swirled and danced in he air as her mouth hung open, giving her the opportunity to pretend she was a dragon.  She was fire, she was death, she was...

Gonna miss the damn bus if she didn't move her scrawny ass. The front row ticket Historia sent her wouldn't be of any use if she wasn't there.  Her adorable girlfriend had worked her pretty little ass off to get the part of the Sugar Plum Fairy in Sina's performance of _The Nutcracker_ (Christmas  _was_ two weeks away after all) and Ymir was gonna see her work it on stage.  Even if she wasn't pole-dancing or stripping.  She would still be in a tight leotard though.  And Ymir wasn't even gonna try denying it, that was a little (maybe a lot. Like, one-third) why she was going. She was hormonal trash and she knew it. 

The last time she had been to a ballet, or any theater performance really, was the fourth-grade trip to Peter Pan that ended disaterously when the harness allowing the titular character to fly broke and the actor came crashing to the ground like Lucifer so long ago. Ymir was scolded for laughing at the poor guy because he was convulsing on the stage making great gasping noises like a walrus. She could still hear them to this day.  Yup, even as a little kid she had been a total jerk.  

The only other passenger on the city bus was another freckled babe, just like herself, except this woman had better eyebrows.  Ymir recognized her as Ilse Langnar, Trost's star reporter.  Why the hell was she taking the bus?  And why was she muttering into a tape recorder? Kind of creepy. Ymir avoided eye-contact.

Aaaaaaaand fuck. They were getting off at the same stop.Ymir waited until Ilse was at the front of the bus until she got up from her seat.  By the time she was stepping off, the other woman had vanished into the depths of the theater.  A couple was just walking up to the doors the same time as Ymir, and the taller one opened them for her.

"Hello Ymir. Didn't expect to see you here." Mr. Smith smiled down at her.

"Uh, yeah. Hi." Ymir hugged herself and she looked between him and Mr. Rivaille, and at their linked elbows. Okay. So there was more to their relationship than kinky public sex.  She really hoped they wouldn't give each other handjobs in the darkness.  Although she wouldn't put it past them, depraved animals that they were.

"You don't seem like the type to enjoy theater Ymir." Mr. Rivaille commented as they headed inside.

"I don't. Not usually.But I had some time to waste and thought why not."

"Oh good. I'm glad to hear you've finished your essay on your chosen historical figure.  Catarina Sforza was a fascinating woman, was she not?" 

Shit.

"Yeah."Ymir said evasively. "The way she just...totally dominated was pretty awesome."

She could practically feel the eyebrow raise.

"Hm." Was all he said.

Mr. Smith must have caught sight of her ticket as she handed it over to the collector because he remarked,

"A front row seat? Amazing.  Eighth row was the best I could get. When did you buy your ticket?"

"A friend gave it to me yesterday."

"Some friend."

"Yeah." She muttered, side stepping away so they could present their tickets, and heading into the theater before he could ask anymore.  He wasn't being particularily nosy, Ymir was just very defensive with her and Historia's relationship.  Mr. Rivaille had already figured out she wasn't attracted to men. If she gave him even the tiniest hint, she was positive he would figure everything out on his own.

And if he couldn't he would just send Isabel and Farlan to spy on her.

The seats were comfortably cushioned, but Ymir had enough experience to know that by the end of the performance, maybe even sooner she would have a numb ass because she had a bony butt.  She quickly lay claim to the armrest on her left side before the person next to her could sit down, and settled back for a quick nap before until the show began.

Ymir didn't know much about the Nutcracker, only that it was Toy Story mixed with Candy Land. Man, she hadn't played that board game in ages.  Historia had been quick to fill her in, going into a long explanation of it's plot.  Ymir waited patiently until the end to suggest that if Clara was so happy with her Nutcracker Prince, she would be even more excited by a sex toy coming to life. 

 _god shut up ur so stupid_ had been her response. Ymir grinned just thinking about it.

But seriously, she had to give credit to the dancers.  They made that shit look easy.  And it was actually a good story too, although she was creeped out by Drosselmayer.  Maybe it was just they way they costumed him, giving him dark robes and an eyepatch.

She ended up getting bored halfway through, like, yeah we get it, they're in love, does every fuckin person in that candy world have to put on a dance for them like seriously.

And then Historia came out in and Ymir sat up straight and leaned forward, elbows on her knees so she wouldn't miss a thing.  Her golden hair was pinned into a sleek bun upon which rested a tiara.  Her sleeveless leotard ended in a tutu that exposed her shapely legs in tights. But incredibly, Ymir wasn't looking at that.  Okay, maybe a little. Just a quick, up-down, then focusing on her girlfriend's face, which was frozen in a natural looking smile, but it was the smile she used for interviews, not the angelic smile she gave to Ymir. 

 Historia tapped her legs in time to the music, then began her dance.  She seemed to dance in a place where gravity didn't pull so hard, her every moment elegant and professional, a tribute to her hours spent rehearsing.  Her dance was fairly simple compared to the others, but the music that accompanied it fit Historia perfectly.  At least, Ymir thought so anyway.  It seemed to convey childish mischief and that was about as far as she was going to go with that analysis.  Too much work.

At the end, Historia bowed and she looked up, straight at Ymir.  Her smile grew wider and she winked. Ymir blew a kiss.  Historia stood and cupped her hand to her cheek before raising it in a tiny wave before gliding her way offstage, tutu bouncing slightly with each step.

Ymir was pretty sure she clapped the loudest.

The rest of the ballet went by quickly and soon the dancers were coming out to bow as a group.  They held hands and raised them above their heads before bowing as one.  Ymir stood and clapped, grinning what  was probably the dorkiest grin in the history of dorky grins as the rest of the audience stood up as well.  Historia's eyes locked on to Ymir's, and she winked.  

"Heh." Ymir, for lack of a better word, heh'd.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone walk up the stairs of the stage.  Lod Reiss and his wife approached their daughter with a giant bouquet of roses, which they presented to her with smiles.  Historia's cheeks flushed and she accepted them graciously.  Her parents put their arms around her shoulders and smiled at the crowd, but Ymir noticed Historia's smile had turned cold.  It no longer reached her eyes.

 

***

_pussygalore: it just pisses me off that he has to turn everything into a publicity stunt_

_pussygalore: can't he let me have one thing to myself without making it part of his campaign?_

_pussygalore: the election is over for fuck's sake, his seat is secured_

_pussygalore: nothing's gonna get him kicked out_

_yqueer: i feel you_

_pussygalore: nothing better to say?_

_yqueer: i'm sorry :(_

_pussygalore: it's ok_

_pussygalore: my situation's not really something common_

_yqueer: idk_

_yqueer: you're keeping secrets from your parents_

_yqueer: i think that's something every kid can relate to_

_pussygalore: i guess_

_yqueer: your dancing was awesome tho_

_yqueer: glad i woke up in time to see it_

_pussygalore: pfff_

_pussygalore: well at least you got some form of_

_pussygalore: what's the word_

_pussygalore: culturalization?_

_yqueer: fuck if i know_

_yqueer: did i tell you i ran into my professors on a date?_

_pussygalore: are these the same professors you caught fucking in the dean's office_

_yqueer: one of them actually is the dean_

_yqueer: but yeah_

_pussygalore: that could be us but you playin_

_yqueer: you meme-loving fuck_

_pussygalore: :P_

 

_***_

 

They got the chance to be together again five days before Christmas. Historia drove over to Ymir's dorm, and they huddled under layers of clothing and blankets, sipping styrofoam cups of Sasha's special hot chocolate and criticizing lesbian porn.

"Look how long her nails are, oh my god."

"That's how you can tell it was made by straight men."

"It must feel like Wolverine is fingering her."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

"Oh my god, she's not going to."

"Yes. Yes she is."

"A fucking high-heeled shoe!?  That's so unhygenic, I can literally feel the infection."

"Even I don't get that loud when you're fucking me and I do porn for a living. It's definitely a fake orgasm"

"Definitely. Who can fathom the minds of the straight man?"

They snickered. Historia craned her head to kiss Ymir's neck.

"As much as I like the sex, I kinda like this a bit more." She confided, snuggling tightly against Ymir, whose heart decided to stop functioning at those words.  "My parents weren't really the touchy-feely type when they were raising me."

"My home wasn't exactly the the most physically affectionate environment either."

"Lay down." Historia said suddenly.

"Huh?" Ymir asked, but she obliged.  Historia wiggled around until she could lay her head against Ymir's chest.

"Your heartbeat." The blonde explained, closing her eyes. "I've never been so close to someone to hear their heartbeat before.  It's...nice."

Ymir breathed in, filling her lungs with the scent of Historia's peach shampoo.  Her arms wrapped protectively around her girlfriend, and the two stayed like that for a few moments.

"Ymir?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you.  I don't care if our relationship hasn't been long enough for me to say that.  I really do love you.  You're the best friend I've ever had, and you're the only one who really gets me.  I don't have to worry about hiding myself around you.  If that's not love, then I don't know what it is."

Ymir stubbornly refused to acknowledge the pricking in her eyes, though it had been awhile since she heard those words. She tugged Historia up so they were face to face, foreheads resting against each other's.

"I..." She swallowed nervously, and took a deep breath. "Love you too Historia.  I don't...You phrased it pretty well yourself.  Fuck, I'm not good with words but-"

"Shhh." Historia said, gently kissing her.  "Too many words ruin it.  I know exactly what you mean."

Seriously though, Ymir could go on and on, but she realized Historia was right.  Some things couldn't be summed up with words.  Love was one of them.  

The both of them would've been content to remain in their little world, wrapped up in each other.  But Fate is as cruel as it is benevolent, and their dreams were about to be tested by reality.

Because eventually, even the best kept secrets come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can taste Sasha's special hot chocolate for yourself, just use pour your preferred amount of chocolate syrup into a cup of milk, stir, and use swiss miss mix. add a pinch of cinnamon, or stir with a peppermint stick if you want who gives a fuck if it's summer and it's hotter than the cleft of satan's ass you're strong you can do this i believe in you


	13. Negative Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit's goin down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm yellin timber
> 
> also galatea is referring to a greek myth where a guy had such a hard on for a statue, aphrodite took pity on him and made her come alive
> 
> greek myths are so weird

Who knows how long the two of them would have stayed like that, intertwined comfortably in the drowsy warm temperature of their shared body heat if it weren't for Historia's phone buzzing insistently in her jeans pocket.  Historia cursed and wiggled her hand down to retrieve it, a strand of blonde hair falling in her face as she did so.  Ymir brushed it back as Historia answered, the love in her chest going cold when Historia turned pale.

"Why would you do that?!" She yelled, sitting up. Ymir grunted at the sudden pressure on her abdomen.  "You had no right to-" She stopped talked, and bit her bottom lip.  The hand holding the phone was trembling.

"Yes mother." She said quietly, and Ymir's heart broke at the crack in her voice.  Historia swallowed, tears gathering at the corners of her blue eyes.  Ymir swiped at one with her thumb as it tumbled down her girlfriend's cheek.

"Yes.  I'll be there right away." She ended the call and stared at the phone numbly.  Ymir propped herself up on her elbows, and tilted her head.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"My mother..." Historia whispered.  "She went into my room to see if I had a specific prayer book.  And she said I left my laptop unlocked on my bed, which I know I didn't, and she said...she said..." Historia took a deep breath to calm down.

"She said she knew everything and that my father wanted to speak to me right away."

"What the fuck." Ymir said.  

"I know she's lying." Historia said through gritted teeth.  "I always take care to hide my laptop under a loose floorboard in the closet before I leave, and the password is my first girlfriend's middle name. Fuck, how did she find out?" Historia rubbed an eye. Ymir sat up and wrapped her arms around her.  Historia shook, but didn't cry.

"It's gonna be ok." She said, desperately hoping she was telling the truth.  "I won't let you face this alone.  There's nothing wrong with you for...any of this.  Don't put all the blame on yourself, she's the one who deliberately went and violated your privacy."

"But I'm the one who was doing all those things behind their backs..." Historia muttered.

"Hey. Stop that." Thoughts whirled around in Ymir's mind as she tried to calm Historia down.  Fuck, she wasn't good at this.

"You're an adult..." She said slowly. "And you're free to make your own decisions.  Yeah, doing it while you were still living at home was kind of stupid, but...y'know...every kid needs to rebel and become comfortable with themselves."

Historia sniffed.

"Are you really going to come with me?" She asked.

"I am not letting you go alone, that would be so fucking stupid I might as well break up with you here."

"Thank you."

"Yeah." Ymir said, resting her chin on Historia's shoulder. "No problem."

 

***

 

"This is your house?" Ymir asked as they pulled up the driveway.

"Mm-hm." Historia said, taking the keys out of the ignition.  

"It is everything I expected it to be." Ymir said after a long silence.  "Right down to the wrought-iron railings and supporting columns."

"Just screams white upper middle-class, doesn't it?" Historia agreed.  She looked over her shoulder at Ymir.

"You ready for this?"

"No."

"Neither am I."

"What are we waiting for then, let's go." Ymir said, hoping her false bravado would carry over to her girlfriend.  It didn't.  They sat in the car for about three minutes before sighing and getting out.  They walked up the pathway, and up the stairs.  Historia took a deep breath and opened the door.  A rush of warm air greeted them as they stepped inside.  The door closed, trapping them inside.

There's a strange, thick smell in the air that made Ymir sneeze and stirred long-buried memories of going to church every Christmas and Easter, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden bench and kicking her feet while the man at the podium droned on and on.  Incense.  There were small cones of it set before a cut glass nativity scene. No. Not glass. Crystal.  Ymir is relieved because that lessened the chances of it breaking if she were to stumble into the little table it rested on.  She was positive she wouldn't leave this house without breaking  _something._

"Historia?"

A woman came gliding into the entryway, and she is an exact replica of Historia except not as...Well, Ymir doesn't want to use a blunt term like short to describe Historia...Historia is pixie-ish. Elven.  Like the elves from fairy-tales, and just as mischievous.

Mrs. Reiss on the other hand, is elven in the Tolkien sense of the word.  Tall and slender, every moment graceful, lustrous blonde hair in an elegant twist and eyes as blue as her daughter's.  But where Historia's eyes are full of a warm light, this woman's eyes are cold.  She is Galatea, if Galatea had been carved out of ice instead of marble.

"Historia." She repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I don't remember saying you could bring your...friend."

"Well, I've already gotten into so much trouble already, I thought why not." Historia said, lifting her head, and returning her mother's stare.

" _Don't_ backtalk me young lady.  If it weren't winter, I'd send this girl outside to walk back to wherever hovel she came from."

"Oh, good thing you've got a heart of gold then!" Historia bit back.  Mrs. Reiss's arm came up swiftly and Historia flinched.

"One strike." Mrs. Reiss said, holding up her pointer finger. "It's a been a while since you've reached three, hm?  Let's try to keep our heads." She turned on her heel, and went into the house.  Historia followed after her, clutching Ymir's hand tightly.

Someone else came down the hallway, going the opposite direction.  Mrs. Reiss nodded to him as he passed.

"I trust everything went well with my husband?" she asked in a honeyed voice.

"Perfectly." The man replied.  "Everything should be ready to go by tomorrow."

"Wonderful." She smiled at him, and the trio continued on their way.  Ymir frowned and looked over her shoulder.  Tall Dark and Deranged was lifting a bowler hat off a hook, and putting it on his head.  He looked up swiftly, meeting her eyes with a cold, steely gaze and Ymir whipped her head around to face front again.

She lead them into a parlor-type room, furnished with the type of furniture that looks all classy, but the cushions are thin on the chairs, the couch forces you to sit up straight, and you aren't allowed to use the footrest because it's covered in antique silk, which totally defeats the purpose of a footrest.

"Wait here." Mrs. Reiss ordered, heels clicking on the floor as she walked away.  "I'll go fetch your father."

They perched awkwardly on the uncomfortable couch, clutching tightly at each other's sweat slick hands.  Ymir figured she could've made Historia come three times by the time her father walked into the parlor, and settled down on the chair opposite of him, his wife standing behind him, perfectly manicured nails tapping on the back.

"Explain." He said. 

"Mother...Father...This is Ymir.  She's my girlfriend. I've been dating her since September."

Her father's eyes widened.

"Before the election?" He wheezed. "Historia, if the wrong person saw you two acting like this, my career would have been ruined! I'd have be a laughingstock!"

"And that's what you only care about, right? Your career, preserving images. You don't care about me!" Historia snapped.

"We do care sweetheart." Her mother interrupted smoothly.  "Which is why we're seeking the best therapist for you.  You're showing signs of depression, and you think you're so alone that you cling to the first thing you find that gives you attention."

"You're what? You think...I'm a lesbian," Ymir relished the flinch they both gave at the word. "Because I'm depressed? You think homosexuality is a disease?"

"One that can be cured with therapy sweetheart. You don't have to go through this alone."

"Fuck that." Historia snarled. "I'm not sick.  I love Ymir."

"No dear. You only think you love her.  It'll burn out soon and you can further your relationship with that nice Wagner boy."

Ok, Ymir was seriously getting fed up with the sickening, babying tone Mrs. Reiss was using.  You know the one.  Where the person is so confident that they know their shit and everyone should just shut up and go along because they know everything.  The tone of voice when used to talking to a very young child, or a very mentally impaired person.  Condescending.  All-knowing.

"Just shut the fuck up." Ymir finally said.  "Stop deluding yourself.  Your family ain't as perfect as you want it to be.  Is it so much trouble to love your only child no matter what?"

Mrs. Reiss sighed theatrically.

"I was hoping to spare telling your father this." She told Historia. "That his daughter...Was a porn star on the internet."

" _What?!"_ Lod roared, standing up, face red. "For how long?"

"Since she turned eighteen."

" _Three years?! I housed a slut under my roof for three years?!"_

In two great strides he had crossed the distance between them and slapped Historia across her face, then wrapped his hands around her throat.

" _My life would have been ruined you selfish brat!"_

Ymir saw red as Historia gasped, saliva trickling out of her mouth. Next thing she knew, her fist went flying and connected with Lod's cheek. Ymir had a love/hate relationship with her hands.  They were ugly and mannish, but damn, could they throw a punch when the situation required it.

"Don't you  _ever_ touch Historia again!" She barked, as Lod released Historia and tilted back.  Ymir drove the palm of her hand up his nose, and grinned ferally at the crunching sound.   Lod fell over onto the persian rug, blood pouring from his nostrils while his wife shrieked.

"Get out!" She screeched. "Get out and never come back, you self-centered whore!  I wish you died in my womb!"

"Well fuck you too!" Historia rasped as Ymir grabbed her elbow. "I guess it was too much to ask for your unconditional love and support!"

She was crying by the time they got outside.  Ymir jaw clenched as she embraced the tiny girl.

" I won't leave you alone." Ymir promised. "We can figure something out."

"This is gonna seem totally random..." Historia began shakily. "But why don't we go see your mom?  I mean, not that I want to get you thrown out to, it's just...maybe she'll accept us?"

"I doubt it.  She barely accepted the fact she had a kid."

"Sorry.  I just thought..."

"No, no, if that's what you want to do..."  Ymir ran her hands up and down Historia's back. "I just don't see the point, she was still the same burnout when I left her in August.  A person can't change very much in four months."

"Well, she can't possibly react as worse as mine." She laughed faintly.

"Point taken. Let's talk more about this over McDonald's I have a gift card that needs using up."

They chuckled weakly, and started down the walkway.  They were almost to the car when Ymir saw it.  She was never very good with makes and models, at most, she could recognize a '67 Chevy Impala, but there was no mistaking the black car that idled near the end of the street.

"Ymir?" Historia hiccuped as her lanky girlfriend loped off, a pissed-off expression on her face.  Historia's boots were more for fashion than getting through thick layers of snow, so by the time she caught up, Ymir was bending over and speaking into the open window of the car.

"The hell are you two doing here?" She said with a frown.  Historia stood on her tiptoes to peer into the interior.

"I should ask you the same thing." The blond man in the driver's seat replied. He was dressed in Armani, and had a pair of dark shades covering his eyes.  His redheaded companion was dressed similarily.

"With Historia Reiss, no less."

"She's my girlfriend."  Ymir said, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  Historia's heart thumped heavily when she detected the note of pride in the brunette's voice.

"What?" The woman said in disbelief. She leaned across him and slid her glasses down.  "How long has this been going on? When did this start?"

"Around the same time I met you guys, why?"

"What?!" She repeated. "Why did we not know about this Farlan?"

"Because Historia isn't our main priority, Isabel." Farlan said with a long suffering sigh.

"Right." Isabel said, sliding back into her seat.

"Whoa. What?" Now it was Ymir's turn to be surprised, and Historia's as well. "Not your main priority? Are you spying on the Reiss family?" Her eyes widened.

"That's a wild accusation Ymir" Farlan told her.

:Yeah, maybe we're spying on you!" Isabel cut in.

"Come to think of it..." Historia said slowly, tapping her finger against her chin.  "This car  _has_ been around an awful lot."

"What the shit is going on here?" Ymir demanded. "Does this have to do with your Area 51 deal or something? I swear to god, if you hurt Historia-"

"Calm down." Farlan ordered. "We don't mean Historia any harm.  But if you want to protect her, I'd advise staying getting out of town for a few days."

"No problems staying away." Historia said miserably. "I've been kicked out."

Ymir slung her arm over Historia's shoulder and rested her chin atop her blonde head.

"My apologies." Farlan said.  He sounded honest.

"Where will you go?"

"She'll stay with me." Ymir said bluntly. "We'll figure something out."

"I'll be sure to mention your situation to Mr. Rivaille."  His gloved hand held out a business card.

"Call that number if people bother you too much."

Ymir took it and held it so both she and Historia could read it.  In plain blue text, it read:

**Legion Consulting Corporation.**

And in blue script underneath:

_"Helping you to fly on the wings of freedom."_

Ymir raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly would we need to consult you for?"

"Just in case you're given too much trouble." 

"Usually we handle much,  _much,_ larger cases, but for you, we'll make an exception." Isabel added.

Somewhere in the car, a cellphone rang.  Isabel took it out of her pocket and answered it.  She said nothing and hung up after a few seconds.

"It's happening tomorrow. We've been given clearance to act.  Boss wants us to rendezvous at the usual point so he can tell us about some last minute changes."

Farlan nodded.

"That's our cue to leave you." He saluted them. "Good luck ladies."

He started the car, and drove away, leaving the Ymir and Historia to stare after it in confusion.

 

 

 


	14. Family Means Nobody Gets Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ends with a kiss, and really, that's all you need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope these last few chapters have measured up to your expectations ladies, gentlemen, in betweenies, and none at all-ers.

They decided a bus would be a better choice than to force Historia's car to make the grueling journey to Ymir's home town of Zhiganshina.  Two days after the big blowout at the Reiss manor, they're boarding the bus with a seven hour journey ahead of them.  They spend most of it sleeping, Historia's head on Ymir's shoulder, Ymir's cheek on hers, and an arm around her, holding her close.  Their free hand clasp each other and never let go.

When they arrived, Ymir teased Historia about the drool spot on her shirt. Historia pouted.  Ymir kissed her.

From the Greyhound station, they take a dingy city bus to Ymir's street, and in thirty minutes they are standing on the sidewalk just looking at it apprehensively.  Ymir is grateful the soft layer of snow makes her home look quaint and rustic, in comparison to it's borderline condemned state in the summer.

"You ready for this?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"Then what are we waiting for, let's go."

They slowly walked up to the door.  Incredibly, the key Ymir brought with her fits in the lock.  She opened the door and stepped inside.  And the moment she did, she knew something was off.

Since when did the house smell like apple pie?  When were those smoke stained walls repainted a warm red?  Did the carpet get steam-cleaned, it's never been so white before.

An uneasy fear curled in Ymir's gut as her overactive imagination took control.  Her mother died, and someone else must have moved in.

Well, in a way, that is exactly what happened.

"Hello?" Called a faint female voice, wrecked from years of drug abuse.  "Who's there?"

Her mother turned the corner and froze.  Ymir stood still, taking in the sight before her.  This is not the neglective addict she left behind, this woman is healthier.  Her face has lost some of it's gauntness, her eyes no longer look haunted, she's standing up straight.

"Mom?"

"Ymir?" Her mom said, hesitantly stepping forward.  "You...I didn't think you would come home for Christmas."

"Uh yeah well..." Ymir shuffled her feet awkwardly.  "What's going on? Why is it..." She trailed off, not sure what to say. "Why are you..." Again, uncertainty.

"Is that apple pie?" She finally said.

"Y-yes...It's my first time baking.  Oh, you brought a friend."  She smiled, lips closed to hide her nicotine-stained teeth.

"Hello.  I'm sure Ymir has told you horror stories about me."

"Not at all ma'am." Historia said politely.  "My name is Historia."

"Nice to meet you...Historia..." Her spindly hands fiddled at the edge of the oversized sweater she wore.  Ymir remembered finding it in a dumpster and saving up money so she could wash it in the laundromat and give it to her as a Christmas gift.

"Why don't you girls come into the kitchen.  The pie's cooling off, we can cut it..."

The crust was mushy, the apples are tart and crisp, but Historia says it's the best pie she's ever had.

"T-thank you."  Her mother blushed and looked down at her lap.  It's silent for a moment.  Then she began speaking.

"Ymir has probably told you about her shitty upbringing.  I wasn't the mother she needed, and she raised herself for the most part.  As a result, we were never very close.  I wasted my life while she went on with hers.  When she was at college, I didn't...well, I lost what little control I had over my life.  A few days after you left, Ymir,  I..." Her voice cracked.

"I overdosed on pain medication.  I don't think I'll ever be sure if it was intentional or not...I barely remember calling the police.  I woke up in the hospital the next day and the doctors told me I was lucky to be alive.  They wanted to know I wanted to contact you but...I'm a coward, and I couldn't do it.

"Mom..." Ymir said quietly.

"That's when  realized I...I had to change my life.  I can't fix all those years I left you alone, but I  _can_ fix the years we have ahead of us."  A tear splattered on the tabletop.

"Baby, I'm so sorry.  Could you possibly forgive me?"

"Yeah..." Ymir replied hoarsely, blinking back tears of her own. "I...I can...I hope..."

"Excuse me, but where;s the bathroom?"  Historia interrupted politely.  She didn't really have to go, but the women deserved some privacy.

When she returned, faces were dry and eyes were red. Occasional sniffles and hiccups broke the silence.\

"I'm sorry Historia, I don't think I caught your last name.  What did you say it was?"

"Reiss. Historia Reiss, ma'am.

"Reiss? Ymir, you're friends with Lod Reiss's daughter?"

"More thanfriends, actually..." their hands found each other;s under the table. "Mom...Historia's my girlfriend."

Her mother's hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened.

"I guess I have to get involved in gay politics now." She said weakly.  "Do Historia's parents know about this?"

"Yeah...Their reaction didn't match  up with the loving image they portray on the news.

"They kicked me out." Historia explained softly.

"This is all so sudden..." Her mother said. "But I know what it's like to be homeless and alone.  Stay with us, please."

"Thank you so much!" Her girlfriend said as she hugged Ymir tightly.

"You're welcome."  She smiles a smile that is tired, but full of love and her eyes are aglow with it.

"I'm so glad you're happy Ymir." She said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  "Hold onto her tight."

"I don't ever intend to let go." Ymir agreed, breathing deeply of the smell of Historia and the smell of home.

 

***

 

It's all the media can talk about Christmas day.  Historia and Ymir are snuggled up on the absurdly plushy sofa, wrapped in a quilt and channel-surfing.

"Wait." Historia said, touching Ymir's hand.  "I want to see this."

They watched in silence as onscreen, Historia's father is dragged out of his house in handcuffs and shoved into a police cruiser.  Ilse Langnar narrated with enthusiasm.

"Here we are at Lod Reiss's home, where our governer is being arrested for aiding and abetting wanted domestic terrorist, Kenny Ackerman."

"Poor Mikasa." Ymir muttered as the aforementioned terrorist was also dragged from the manor, in handcuss, and shoved into a different police cruiser.

"The two have been indicted with selling government information to the highest bidder.  According to my source, Reiss has been under watch for over three years by the group known only as Legion."

The scene changes to a press release with three figures Ymir knows very well, smartly dressed in Armani and wearing sunglasses.

"We were approached by our client three years ago who had reason to believe Mr. Reiss was a traitor, and making quite a profit off it." Mr. Rivaille said into the microphone. Ymir wondered if he was standing on a box.

"Is it true your client is Dot Pixis, Reiss's former opponent?" A reporter yelled. Mr. Rivaille shook his head.

"That is confidential information."

"Is it true you had every staff member at the University replaced with your own operatives?"

"Are you" the expletive is beeped out "stupid? That's going a bit overboard don't you think?  Only I worked as a professor there. Yes, the Dean was in on it, and was a part of my cover."

"Are you holding Historia Reiss and her mother hostage?"

"Mrs. Reiss vanished before we could get her. Miss Reiss is not in the company of anyone from our organization.  But she is in very capable hands, wherever she is."

"How much can you tell us about your operation?"

"Not a " beep "thing.  But I will tell you this."  Mr. Rivaille looked straight ahead, and though his eyes were covered by sunglasses, Ymir still felt the weight of his gaze pierce through her.

"If you are commiting injustices against the innocent in this world, we will find you, and deal with you accordingly.  We are Legion. We are everywhere.  And we are watching."

He turned and walked away, Isabel and Farlan trailing after him.  The scene cut back to the Reiss home as reporters chased after the squad car.

Ymir turned it off.

"Did that woman say Kenny Ackerman?" Her mother came into the living room, drying a dish.  "I used to get my cocaine from him.  He forced me into sheltering him when his ring was busted."

"Yeah, I remember that.  What an asshole." Ymir said.

"Good to see he's getting what he deserves." She said firmly, then went back into the kitchen.

"I don't think you'll ever be able to go home again." She said.  Historia looked at her, eyes shining with adoration. Ymir's heart skipped a beat.

"Home is where the heart is." She said simply. "And my heart..." She llaid a hand over Ymir's chest. "Is right here."

"My boob?"

"You know what I meant you piece of shit."

They curled up closer and kissed.  Historia tasted of peppermint. Ymir, hot chocolate. They have each other.  

They will always have each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've done it kids we've climbed this whole mountain. it has been a pleasure.
> 
> people have been complaining of a severe lack of fics where Ymir/Krista is the main pairing. if you're interested, drop me a prompt at http://lailania.tumblr.com/ i will try to fill it as soon as possible
> 
> please do it im so bored
> 
> also, i didnt get a chance to include it in the fic, but Connie and Sasha are aromantic, and eventually get married out of convienience. mostly because i saw this post.
> 
> http://ratacular.tumblr.com/post/89468252727/sherokutakari-eighthdoctor-sherokutakari
> 
> especially the dessert table
> 
> one of these days i will write a fic with aromantic representation instead of just as a side note. that day is saturday.
> 
> tbh i kinda feel like this wasn't a yumikuri fic, it was more of a "random shit happens and ymir reacts to it oh yeah it's a modern au btw" sorry bout that.

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno how krista's got her thing set up, people send her money and she does kinky things on camera???? yeah let's go with that.
> 
> also ymir's screen name is a horrible, horrible pun on ABBA's song Dancing Queen. i didn't even get the reference to her titan form until after i wrote it.


End file.
